


Dragons of Ice and Fire

by dogmatix



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Daenerys' crew, F/F, Padme's people, surprise cameos - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21601231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogmatix/pseuds/dogmatix
Summary: Padme Amidala must forge new alliances to save her world, and meets a fiery young Twi'lek warlord along the way. (aka. Episode I, with DRAGONS)
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 18
Kudos: 54
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skyrissian (ErinacchiLove)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinacchiLove/gifts).

> Many thanks to @norcumi for the awesome beta, any and all remaining errors are of my own doing.

  


* * *

Padmé Amidala and her handmaidens sat quiet and stoic as the Naboo royal yacht shuddered around them. Her handmaidens leaned in, linking hands for reassurance. Even Sabé, who was dressed as Queen, held Rabé and Padmé’s hands, propriety and pretense be damned.

_'Great danger, indeed_,' Padmé thought, remembering Sabé’s question disguised as a statement, before they’d embarked on this voyage. Had Padmé made the wrong choice? She’d told Sabé they were brave, and that was true, but would bravery be enough to see them through the Trade Federation blockade? The yacht, for all its size, had no weapons, no way of fighting back; speed would be their only asset, and as the wall of blasterfire rocking the ship intensified, that seemed like a flimsy hope at best.

She wanted desperately to know what was happening, but there was nothing she could do to help, and intruding into the cockpit now would surely serve to distract those who could.

Silence descended, and Padmé dared to hope. Had they entered hyperspace? Were they safely on their way to Coruscant? Minutes dragged past, until Padmé couldn’t take it anymore and prompted Sabé to summon Panaka for a status update. When Panaka arrived, he was trailed by a carbon-scarred astromech unit and the two Jedi. Master Tahl and her Mon Cal student, Padawan Bant, bowed to the Queen, and Panaka gave her a summary of what had happened – they’d escaped Naboo, and made it past the Trade Federation blockade by the skin of their teeth and the extreme bravery of one astromech droid called R2-D2. Master Tahl stepped forward to deliver the bad news - the hyperdrive was damaged, and they’d need to stop and get it repaired. To that end, they were heading for someplace called Tatooine.

Panaka had a thunderous look on his face, but said nothing. Sabé frowned, and Padmé spoke up. “I’m afraid we’re not familiar with that planet?” She knew the name from somewhere, and she assumed it was between Naboo and Coruscant somewhere, but no information about it sprang to mind.

“It’s in the Arkanis Sector. It’s technically a Republic planet, but in practice it’s controlled by the Hutts,” Master Tahl admitted.

The Hutts? Padmé’s shoulders tightened.

“Is it wise to go there?” Sabé asked. “Surely, there must be a better alternative?”

“The only other planets within range all have a Trade Federation presence. This ship has no weapons, and once we set down, we’re not leaving until we’ve effected repairs. Tatooine is a risk, but if we keep a low profile, we can be in and out in under two days.”

Sabé was silent, giving Padmé time to nudge her if she wanted to, but there was nothing to say. “We are not happy about this plan,” Sabé said, “but we will trust your judgement.”

* * *

Coming out of hyper over Tatooine, everything seemed quiet. Padmé had wedged herself into the cockpit, much to Panaka’s displeasure, but she wasn’t about to miss anything else. Panaka at least kept to pointed looks, not revealing the identity charade – as far as everyone else was concerned, the Queen was still back in the hold with most of her handmaidens.

Master Tahl tilted her head this way and that, as if trying to discern some detail only she was privy to.

“Master?” Padawan Bant asked.

“Something is…tense,” the Jedi Master said.

Well, that was supremely unhelpful.

“There isn’t any traffic,” the pilot, Ric Olié, muttered, tapping one of his instruments. “None at all.”

“Can we go anywhere else?” Padmé asked.

“No, Handmaiden,” Olié said, shooting her a regretful look. “It’s a miracle the hyperdrive got us this far.”

“Then I suppose we’ll have to land,” she said.

“Mm. We have little choice,” Jedi Master Tahl agreed.

Olié muttered something under his breath, but the ship curved down towards the planet. Nobody contacted them, even to ping for ship ID. It could be something out of the ordinary, or it might just be how the Hutts ran their backwater desert planet; smugglers rarely appreciated having to log their movements.

“I’m picking up landing bays, but nothing big enough for us, even if we wanted to try for them,” Ric Olié reported as the planet filled the viewscreen.

“Land on the outskirts of the city,” Jedi Master Tahl said, as a small smudge in the sandy desert started to resolve into buildings.

Padmé would hardly call it a ‘city.’ ‘Village,’ perhaps, if she were feeling generous. She dug into a hip pocket, and slipped her hand through the bottom of it to touch the blaster strapped to her thigh.

The tension ratcheted up another notch as they landed, still without being hailed.

“We’ve got craft inbound,” Ric Olié said after a second, eyes glued to the instruments. “It looks like…speeders? Low to the ground and holding speed at-” He flinched back from the screen. “Inbound! Where-? Two ships- no- I- what _ are _ those?” he sputtered.

Two heavy thumps rang through the hull, as if something had settled on top of the yacht. Olié scrambled the exterior cameras to find the new arrivals, focusing on two gigantic reptilian forms just as the two opened their jaws and roared loud enough to be heard through the hull, and nevermind external pickups.

Were those _ wings _?!

“We’re being hailed!”

“Patch it through,” Jedi Master Tahl said, sounding much calmer than Padmé thought was appropriate for the circumstances.

“This is Daenerys Stormborn, leader of the freedpeoples of Mos Espa and Mos Eisley. Disembark from your ship, or see it destroyed.”

“I have so many questions,” Padawan Bant muttered.

Jedi Master Tahl leaned forward, hitting send after a second of fumbling with the com - the only indication Padmé had yet seen that the Jedi’s blindness impacted her in any way. “This is Jedi Master Tahl of the Galactic Republic. If we disembark, what guarantee do we have you won’t kill us anyway?”

There was a long moment of silence, then Daenerys spoke again. “If what you say is true, we have no quarrel with you, and you have my word that you will not be harmed.”

“Please give us a moment to consider your offer,” Jedi Master Tahl replied, then closed the connection. “Thoughts?”

“We need to protect Queen Amidala – she has to get to Coruscant,” Panaka jumped in.

“Maybe Queen Amidala could help negotiate,” Padmé countered, “This Daenerys might be open to talks with a fellow ruler.”

“Handmaiden,” Panaka said, exasperated.

“Maybe we can hide the Queen,” Padawan Bant offered. “If you have a spare tunic, we could disguise her as a fellow Handmaiden.”

Padmé had to work hard not to react to that one. “I think the Queen would do more good out in the open. If we try to hide her presence, we’ll have to come up with a cover story, and lying now opens us to accusations of dishonesty if our ruse is discovered.”

“Since it’s the queen we’re putting in danger, perhaps we should ask the queen,” Jedi Master Tahl suggested.

“Yes,” Padmé was quick to agree, “I think that’s a good idea.”

Panaka had a pinched, displeased look, but he usually did.

* * *

Jedi Master Tahl stood at the head of the group as they disembarked, Padawan Bant half-a-step behind her. Behind them came Panaka and Padmé, in her role as Queen Amidala, in a less ostentatious outfit than usual – both because she might need to run, and because the heat would murder her in short order if she wore more than two layers of wool.

It was a risk not to use a decoy, but if they were about to need to negotiate, Padmé didn’t want to have to go through a proxy, even one as in-tune with her as Sabé. Behind Padmé stood her Handmaidens, with the Naboo pilots and one lone astromech bringing up the rear.

Squinting in the bright light of Tatooine’s two suns, it took Padmé a moment to blink tears out of her eyes. A low rumble rose and fell from behind them, and Padmé glanced back and up, and _ up _, at the two winged reptiles still perched on the yacht. One was a silver-grey, with long spines running from its head down between its shoulders and to what Padmé could see of its tail. It lounged flat on its belly, regarding them with great interest. Hopefully not as snacks. The second one was a burnished copper, red-gold under the double suns. Its spines were shorter, and it sat back on its haunches, tail wrapped primly around all four feet. She got the feeling it was watching them for any funny moves.

She made herself turn her back on the beasts, and got a good look at the ragtag forces arrayed in front of them. Speeders and speeder bikes idled behind the line of people. Even holding weapons, they weren’t nearly as impressive as the two giant reptiles behind her. Most were dressed in little more than rags, and they flanked a central group of four; two twi’leks, and two humans. It was one of the two twi’leks that grabbed Padmé’s attention – she was around Padmé’s age, and stood confidently, her head raised to give them an assessing stare. Padmé took the opportunity to stare unabashedly back. A light, almost silver yellow, she was exceptionally beautiful, even for a twi’lek, and she wore her outfit of cobbled-together leather like it was the finest silk, or the strongest armour. She wasn’t sure if it was the young woman’s physical beauty, or the confidence radiating from her, but Padmé’s breath caught in her throat for a moment, and all she could do was stare.

A gentle nudge from Sabé broke her out of it, and she continued the last few steps forward as if she’d merely been adjusting to the sunlight

Taking her place beside the Jedi, she tried to match the twi’lek’s posture as the suns beat down on the tableau. The quiet rustle of wings and metallic scritch of claws on chrome made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. How well did this Daenerys control the giant predators perched on her ship? How much did Padmé and her entourage look like tasty snacks? She forced herself not to look back.

“Daenerys Stormborn, I am Jedi Master Tahl, and this is my student, Bant. To my right,” Master Tahl indicated at Padmé, “is Queen Amidala of Naboo.”

“Greetings, Daenerys Stormborn. How may we address you?” Padmé asked.

“'_Anoon _ Daenerys’ or just _ ‘Anoon,' _is fine,” the young leader said. “These are my advisors, Jorah Mormont,” she indicated the older twi’lek, who was almost the same colour as the sand dunes around them, “and Shmi Skywalker,” she indicated the human, who stood with a young boy by her side. “Now, why are you on Tatooine?”

Master Tahl answered. “We’re on a mission to take the Queen to Coruscant, but our craft was damaged, and needs repairs to its hyperdrive.”

“And _ Tatooine _was the only planet in range?” Daenerys asked with deep scepticism.

“My planet is being held hostage by the Trade Federation,” Padmé said. “We need to avoid planets which have enough of a Trade Federation presence to detain us.”

“And the Trade Federation has a presence on a great many planets,” Jorah said in a gravelly voice.

“Yes.”

“Forgive me, but we are unused to the heat here. Would it be possible to relocate, either to the ship or to a place of your choosing?” Master Tahl asked, much to Padmé’s relief.

Danaerys had a short, quiet discussion with Jorah and Shmi, then drew herself up as her advisors stepped back again. Padmé wished she had those kind of advisors, for it seemed that both of Daenerys’ were willing to stick to advising, instead of ‘guiding,’ which was what happened all too often to Padmé, with her council. She appreciated her Handmaidens, but advice wasn’t their role, and in any case they were all around the same age as Padmé, and had little advice that Padmé hadn’t already thought of.

“Five of you may accompany us back to Mos Espa - the two Jedi, the Queen, her guard, and a handmaiden.”

“Thank you for your generosity,” Master Tahl said with a bow.

“Yes, thank you,” Padmé chimed in. 

Daenerys lifted a hand, looking past Padmé and the Jedi, and Padmé turned around to see the two giant reptiles hop off the yacht, leaving superficial but visible scratches on the chrome finish, which was more impressive than it sounded; the yacht might be ostentatious - a hold-over from King Varuna - but the hull was the strongest money could buy, and even a lightsaber would have trouble going through it.

Once on the ground, the silver and copper beasts bunched low, then launched themselves into the air. Panaka gave an aborted curse, and several people coughed at the dust cloud they raised, wings beating wide and laborious to get the height they needed to fly ahead to Mos Espa.

Several of the ragtag group that Daenerys had brought stayed behind to make sure the people in the yacht didn’t try anything, not that the ship itself was going anywhere without major hyperdrive repairs. Or possibly a complete replacement, Padmé thought grimly as they raced over the sand towards the nearest approximation of civilization.

* * *

Water had been offered and accepted, and all of them were seated around a table that had seen better days. Four more people joined Daenerys’ group - three humans and a Zabrak. The humans were introduced as Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Misandei; and the Zabrak was Grey Worm.

Padmé, well aware that she was racing the clock, decided to forego pleasantries. “Forgive me, but I was under the impression that the Hutts controlled Tatooine. Is that not the case?” She could take a good stab at what had happened, given the damage to Mos Espa she’d seen as they’d driven through, and the scorch mark on the floor not a meter from where she now sat, but she’d rather get it out of the way so that they could move on to other topics.

Qui-Gon rumbled with quiet laughter, and Daenerys quirked a small, vicious smile that made Padmé’s heart flutter inappropriately. “It used to be. After I killed Jabba, I decided I didn’t want to wait for the Hutt cartel to send a replacement, so I took over. The dragons helped, of course.”

“She also freed all of us - all the slaves,” Shmi said, smiling as she glanced down at her son.

“Yeah, she’s wizard!” the young boy piped up, speaking for the first time.

“Things might have gotten a bit out of hand, though,” Jorah said.

“I do not blame any of my people for what they did to the monsters who enslaved them,” Daenerys said, her smile gaining a warning edge.

“Of course not, _ Anoon _,” Jorah said, inclining his head in submission.

“Slaves?” Padmé asked, her thoughts derailed. “But slavery is illegal in the Republic.”

There was a moment of silence. All of the Daenerys’ people looked so taken aback that Padmé’s spine stiffened. 

“Queen Amidala,” Daenerys said mildly. “I take it you’ve never studied Twi’lek culture, or the Hutts?”

“I- no, but- slavery is...illegal….” Padmé shut her mouth, cheeks burning.

“You Highness,” Jedi Master Tahl said, and it was somehow worse coming from an ally, “Slavery is illegal on Naboo, yes, and technically illegal in the Republic, but I’m afraid you have much to learn about the wider galaxy.”

“It appears I do,” she replied stiffly, feeling more like a child than she had since being elected Queen.

“_ ‘Anoon _,’ that means ‘warlord,’ if I remember right?” Padawan Bant asked, moving the topic along, for which Padmé was grateful.

“You speak Rylothian,” Jorah said.

“Only a little, I’m afraid,” Padawan Bant said self-deprecatingly.

“It does,” Daenerys confirmed.

“Then, _ Anoon _, may we ask what plans you have for us?” Master Tahl asked. “Why were we greeted with blasters, and why is there no traffic around Tatooine?”

Daenerys’ mouth went tight and unhappy. “Jedi are perceptive.” Master Tahl inclined her head. Jorah started to lean in, but a small gesture from Daenerys stopped him. Gods, what Padmé wouldn’t give to have that kind of cachet with her advisors.

“When we rose up against the slavemasters, we hit them as hard as possible, with everything we had. That included preventing them from escaping to rally against us. Unfortunately, the methods we used, and the subsequent fighting, took out all spaceworthy vessels.” With wry humour, Daenerys continued, “Our plan was perhaps a little too successful.

“Now, we are trapped here. There have been a few ships in the past week, but none of them landed. No doubt, they carry word back to Nal Hutta, that there is a situation on Tatooine that needs to be...attended to.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “If we wait here, we’re trapped - womp rats in a box canyon. We must take the fight to the Hutts.”

None of Daenerys’ people reacted to that, though all five of the Republic contingent started or reacted in some way. “I’m sorry, you mean to fight the entire Hutt cartel?” Jedi Master Tahl asked, managing to hide most of her incredulity.

Daenerys nodded. “I do. _ We _ do. Perhaps we will fail. But if we remain here, we will surely die. Therefore, we need ships.”

“A single ship can’t carry more than a handful of your people,” Jedi Master Tahl said. “Forgive me, but...your plan is unlikely to succeed.”

“A slim chance is better than none. And you forget, I have dragons.”

Master Tahl tilted her head slightly. “‘Dragons’ - I assume those are the flying creatures that landed on the yacht?”

“Yes, those would be the them,” Daenerys confirmed.

“Those _ really _won’t fit in the hold,” Padawan Bant said.

“You’d be surprised,” Daenerys said. What did _ that _mean? “Nevertheless, we must commandeer your ship. We don’t mean to harm you, but our need is urgent.”

“As is ours,” Padmé said, her responsibility to her people driving her to speak again. “The Trade Federation sits above my planet, blocking all traffic. It has landed droid troops in an illegal military occupation of Theed. I must reach the Senate.”

“Perhaps we can reach a compromise,” Master Tahl suggested.

“Nal Hutta and Coruscant are hardly in a straight line from here,” Daenerys replied, “if you're suggesting we all cram in together.”

“Not precisely. _ Anoon _, I see three possibilities. One, you simply take our ship, ignoring Naboo’s plight and leaving us stranded here, as you were. Two, we take you to the nearest transport hub that accepts Republic credits, and buy a second ship there, either for you or for us. Admittedly, this runs the risk of the Trade Federation intercepting all of us. Or three, we take you with us to Coruscant.”

“Coruscant is a nest of snakes,” Misandei spoke for the first time, her voice filled with quiet conviction. “You will find no help there, _ Anoon _.”

“It’s also where the Senate is,” Tahl said, “and frankly, if you can get backing from the Senate, the odds of Tatooine’s survival go up drastically. It’s also where the Jedi are. We can’t right all the wrongs in the galaxy - gods know we would if we could - but our Agricorps could provide your people with food, which I assume you’re about to start having a problem with soon, if you don’t already, and perhaps a Jedi might be assigned to mediate between you and the Hutts. It’s at least less likely that the Hutts will simply take over again, in that case.”

Daenerys frowned, obviously thinking fast. “And why would the Hutts not simply retake Tatooine in my absence? Going all the way to Coruscant would take days, and then to wait for a chance to,” her mouth twisted in distaste, “plead my case…. How long before I returned, successful or not?”

“Even if the Hutts returned, they consider slaves valuable - they would simply retake Mos Espa and Mos Eisley-”

“No. You don’t know the Hutts like we do,” Daenerys said.

Shmi nodded. “If we were lucky, they’d simply kill us all as an example.” Her grip on the young boy tightened, and the boy looked up at her in concern.

“It’ll be okay, Mom. We won’t let them,” he said, trying to be brave.

“If we were not lucky. They would only make us wish we were dead,” Grey Worm said.

Padmé racked her brain to try and think of a solution, but she was in dire straits herself, and there seemed to be nothing she could do to help. It was a feeling of powerlessness she was becoming all too familiar with, but it never became easier to bear.

“Then, I will stay,” Master Tahl said, sitting calm and straight.

“Master-” Padawan Bant said, alarmed.

“I’d need to avoid all mention of Queen Amidala, but If I alert the Jedi and the Senate to the situation here, as loudly and insistently as possible, it might buy the _ Anoon _some sympathy ahead of time.”

“That is, regrettably, not possible at the moment,” Shmi said.

“You have no working communicators?” Master Tahl asked.

“It’s a bit complicated, I’m afraid…” she said, looking at Daenerys, who nodded. “All slaves have explosive transmitters implanted somewhere in their bodies. None of us know exactly where, and it can differ from one person to another. In order for the uprising to succeed, we had to get rid of them without setting them off.”

“And taking them out physically would set them off, just to make things interesting,” Jorah interjected.

“Yes, so I designed several EMP bombs that short-circuited all active electronics, including the transmitters. Unfortunately, it also took out all communicators, killed any active ship systems, and blanked several droids.”

“Any ships and communicators that survived that, didn’t survive the uprising that followed,” Misandei said.

“It will take…extensive work, to get any long-range coms running again,” Shmi said.

“It sounds like you’ve had an interesting time of it,” Tahl said, eyebrows raised. “Lady Shmi, you are quite the engineer.”

Shmi blushed and ducked her head. “Thank you, Jedi Tahl.”

Master Tahl took a moment to collect her thoughts. “Having me here might still give the Hutts pause, if they return.”

“They could just bombard Tatooine from space, there’s not much anyone can do about that,” Jorah pointed out.

“There is that risk,” Master Tahl allowed.

“We might not be able to get through to relevant parties in the Senate, but we could contact the Order before we jump to hyperspace,” Padawan Bant suggested.

“That would get us a head start there, yes. Good thinking, Padawan,” Tahl said.

“My dragons could remain behind-” Daenerys started to offer, but Obi-Wan spoke suddenly, interrupting her.

“The Dragons go where the _ Anoon _goes, or there is no hope.” His voice had an echo around the edges, though slight enough that Padmé wondered if she was just imagining things.

Qui-Gon put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, and Obi-Wan blinked and looked around. “I hate it when that happens,” he muttered.

“The Dragons go with you, _ Anoon, _” Jorah said. Daenerys scowled, but didn’t countermand him. 

“And if the Senate is of no help? What then?” Misandei asked.

Padmé didn’t like to think of the Senate not helping. She’d had to pin all her hopes for ousting the Trade Federation on that. The idea that Daenerys might find no help from the people who were supposed to exist for that specific purpose….

“Then you may have the yacht. Free and clear, no conditions.”

“Your Highness-” Panaka strangled out in protest.

“That is my decision,” she said, looking him dead in the eye. It took a long moment, but at last he bowed his head.

“As you wish, your Highness.”

“That is very kind of you,” Daenerys said, giving Padmé a softer look than before. She paused to compose herself, then addressed the Republic contingent. “We need to discuss this. Please wait outside,” she nodded at the door, where an unobtrusive assassin droid stood as a guard.

Padmé rose with the others, and they filed out. It took a nerve-wracking amount of time for the muffled voices from the other room to quiet down. It felt like an hour, but was probably less. Padmé sat between Sabé and Panaka, while Master Tahl had a quiet conversation with her Padawan. Probably discussing what to do if Daenerys took them up on the last option and Padawan Bant had to carry the mission the rest of the way.

Part of her envied the Mon Cal. Though she was several years older than Padmé, she still had someone to give her instructions, direction. Someone else to shoulder the responsibility of a failure. Sometimes, Padmé wondered if she’d done the right thing, running for Queen so young. But Varuna had been too corrupt, and nobody else had been willing to step up and fight. Stiffening her spine, she took a deep breath. She would do her best for her people. That was all she could do.

* * *

Daenerys opted for the third choice - going along with Padmé and the Jedi to speak to the Senate. That set off a flurry of activity; those who were coming along had to prepare, and the ship still needed a replacement hyperdrive.

“The ship looked like a modified J-type Nubian,” Shmi said, all business as she looked between Padmé and Panaka, “Do you know if it takes a T-12 or a T-13 hyperdrive?”

“A T-14 hyperdrive, actually,” Bant said, walking over with her Master behind her.

Shmi frowned, fingers combing absently through her son’s hair. “T-14…. Yes, I think we have one of those in stock. You’re lucky - they’re not common.”

“You sell ship parts?” Padmé asked.

“I do now,” Shmi said with a small smile. “But since this is for the _ Anoon _, it’s on the house.”

“We can pay,” Master Tahl said. “We have 20,000 Republic credits.”

Shmi shook her head. “Republic credits aren’t worth much out here, and everything’s in such a state of upheaval, I don’t think you could get them exchanged, even at a bad rate.”

Master Tahl nodded in acceptance. Padawan Bant looked more crestfallen than her Master, honestly. “But surely there’s something we can pay with?” the young Jedi asked.

Shmi thought it over for a second. “You’re helping the _ Anoon _. If this goes well, it might be worth all our lives to give you this hyperdrive. I’ll count that as return enough.”

The discussion went in a more technical direction after that, and soon Shmi and the Jedi left to collect the hyperdrive.

Padmé heard a muffled discussion from an adjacent room. She considered leaving, but recognized one of the voices as Daenerys’. Curiosity piqued, she gestured for Sabé to stay where she was, and went to investigate, only to have Jorah exit, stone-faced, and walk brusquely past her.

Padmé stuck her head through the door, and found the twi’lek _ Anoon _sitting at the table in a tired slump.

“Is everything well?” Padmé asked, regretting her royal getup - it always made her feel so formal and stiff. Which was great during governmental meetings, but not so good for casual conversation.

“Queen Amidala,” Daenerys said, sitting up and collecting herself. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

“Your advisor didn’t seem too happy.”

“He’d rather be in danger with me than in danger without me. Please, have a seat.”

“You’re making him stay? Here, on Tatooine? Why? Why not bring him to Coruscant with you?”

“Someone has to keep order here. If it weren’t for Obi-Wan’s pronouncement, the dragons would stay as well. The people of Tatooine are my ultimate responsibility. Jorah, Misandei, and Grey Worm have to stay here to do that.”

“But if the Hutts show up while you’re gone….”

“Nothing in life is certain, and you’re right - the backing of the Republic is our best chance of survival and freedom.”

Their freedom, their very existence, hinged on this. As did Naboo’s freedom. Padmé felt the weight of it all close in on her, and it made her sway where she stood.

“Queen Amidala- “ Daenerys said, rising and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“‘Padmé,’ please,” she asked.

“Padmé, then. Sit down before you fall down.”

The unexpected directive made Padmé smile even as she collapsed into the seat. “Thank you, _ Anoon _. I envy your strength, you know,” Padmé admitted.

“Want to know a secret?”

“Yes?”

Daenerys leaned in conspiratorially. “A lot of that is an act.”

“But-!”

“My people need me to be strong, so I pretend to be.”

“But what if you’re wrong? What if _ I’m _ wrong?”

“Then we’re wrong, and all we can do is make right what we can, and keep going.” She sighed. “I did not expect all the ships to be destroyed during the uprising. I made the wrong call about how some of the masters would react, and there is a dear friend who is no longer with us, because of that.” There was a moment of silence, then Daenerys drew herself up again. “It’s true I could be wrong. It’s true we could all die. But if I stop, if I don’t _ try _ , we _ will _ all die, and I _ refuse _ to die without a fight.”

Padmé found herself sitting straighter to match Daenerys, her heart beating faster in her chest. Yes, yes! Here was the conflict Padmé had been struggling with. All her advisors had been so set on immediate safety, saying that signing the treaty would never last, that the Republic Senate would find it unlawful in the end, and that it was best to go along with it for now. Perhaps they’d had a point, but Padmé had known, deep down, that once they gave in to the Trade Federation, Naboo would never truly be free again. 

Refusing to sign the Trade Federation treaty was dangerous, both for her and her people, but if the Trade Federation was willing to drag people from their homes and send them to internment camps now, how much worse would they do with the pretence of legitimacy? No, she would sign no treaty with the Federation.

* * *

It didn’t take that long for Daenerys and her people to get ready. By the time the hyperdrive was replaced, Daenerys was ready to go. She carried a single large backpack, which surprised Padmé. Then she wondered why it had, and thought a bit. It was...uncomfortable to realize that Daenerys was probably carrying her own backpack because she’d had to do it all her life, and then to realize that Padmé expected other people to carry Daenerys’ bag for her, because Daenerys was a leader of her people, and that meant that carrying things was for servants, the way Padmé’s servants carried her things.

But wasn’t it the nature of jobs to be divided? She did work, just not servant-work. No, that wasn’t right either - the Queen served the people, didn’t she? Ugh, it was all so confusing. And she didn’t have the time to contemplate it right now.

“_ Anoon _Daenerys,” Master Tahl broached the topic after Daenerys and her people had said their goodbyes, “I know you said your dragons would come with you, but there might be a slight complication due to size constraints.”

“My dragons will come with me,” Daenerys said.

“Ahhh…” Bant said, obviously trying to reframe her master’s explanation.

Daenerys gestured to one side, and three people - Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and the young boy that had been with Shmi - stepped forward. “My dragons.”

“So…’dragon’ is a...title?” Bant asked.

Daenerys’ lekku shivered, and her lips quirked in a smile that looked secretive more than anything else, to Padmé. “Something like that.”

“Isn’t the boy a bit young?” Padmé asked, looking down at the tow-headed child, who stared up at her with big, sad blue eyes. When she’d seen him sniffling into Shmi’s shoulder, she’d honestly assumed that _ Shmi _would be the one coming along.

“Anakin Skywalker is a dragon. He goes where I go,” Daenerys said calmly, then relented. “I know it seems odd, but I trust Obi-Wan’s foresight.”

The man in question ducked his head and muttered something, uncomfortable with everyone’s eyes fixed on him. Qui-Gon put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, making the younger man straighten back up.

“Well...I guess that’s settled then?” Bant asked, looking from Daenerys to Padmé.

“I have no objections,” Padmé said. They were going to Coruscant, and while that might hold dangers of its own, it shouldn’t be anything that would endanger a properly looked-after child.

They all boarded, and Padmé looked back at Jedi Master Tahl, Jorah, Shmi, and the others who’d come to see Daenerys off, as Daenerys turned away from the closing door. “You’re not taking anyone else?” she asked. She’d thought there would be at least a few soldiers or handmaidens, not literally only Daenerys and her three ‘dragons.’

“No. We’ll be enough, or we won’t.”


	2. Chapter 2

It felt odd, not to be one face among many as they landed on Coruscant. Panaka and Sabé both had tried to talk her around to letting Sabé be the decoy, but it felt wrong to let Daenerys stand alone as they disembarked onto the platform surrounded by the hustle and bustle of Coruscant. Even for Padmé it was a lot to take in.

Daenerys’ face was blank as she stood by the door. She wore a close-fitting blue dress over brown pants and sturdy boots. Padmé thought the blue dress might have been made in haste on Tatooine, but if it had, it was well-made. It wasn’t a typical outfit, at least on Naboo, but it was striking, and dignified. Though, as Padmé could attest, Daenerys could make stained rags and scraps of leather look dignified.

The stairs yawed open, and they stepped down to meet the people arrayed to greet them. Bant took the lead, a lonely Jedi against the opulent finery around her. She bowed to Palpatine and Valorum, then stood aside for Padmé.

“Your Highness, it is a great gift to see you alive,” Palpatine said. “May I present Supreme Chancellor Finis Valorum.”

“Welcome, your Highness. It’s an honour to meet you in person.”

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Padmé said, going through the pleasantries that surrounded so much of political interactions. Valorum was calm and regal compared to Palpatine’s relaxed warmth, but an air of...exhaustion? hung about him. Padmé didn’t know if it should worry her, or if it came standard with the job. She wasn’t even sure she was reading it right, she thought as they left the Chancellor behind - perhaps he always looked like that. Perhaps he was bored. Somehow she didn’t believe it.

“I heard from Chancellor Valorum that you had a short stop-over on Tatooine, of all places,” Palpatine said pleasantly. He glanced back at Daenerys, then bent his head a bit closer to Padmé and said _ sotto voce _and with a more serious tone, though he never stopped smiling, “Your Majesty, I’m not going to judge you for picking up some...local colour, on Tatooine, but please be discreet where you show her.”

It took Padmé a long, blank moment to understand what Palpatine was insinuating. When she did, she almost tripped over the edge of her robe. Had Palpatine actually just-! She wasn’t sure what shocked her more - that Palpatine assumed any female twi’lek must be a slave, that he thought so little of Padmé that he assumed she would buy a slave at the first opportunity, or that he was quite willing to go along with her having a ‘slave girl’ as long as she was _ discreet _about it.

“We shall remember your advice,” she said frostily. Palpatine pulled back, perhaps aware he’d misstepped, if not exactly how. Gods, she hadn’t been here ten minutes and already she wanted nothing more than to go home.

What made it even worse, was that Palpatine seemed to be of the opinion that she should never have left Naboo in the first place, if his half-hour diatribe about the entrenched corruption in the Senate was any indication. Apparently Valorum had no real power, was under the thumbs of the bureaucrats, and was mired in an investigation regarding accusations of corruption. Entirely baseless accusations, Palpatine hurried to reassure her, though Padmé would have been disinclined to believe those kinds of accusations of the man she’d met today anyway. In her experience, corrupt politicians didn’t tend to dress like they’d rolled out of bed five minutes ago, nor did they look like the only thing holding them up was a dozen shots of strong caf.

On the other hand, Palpatine had much more experience here than she did, and he was a trusted family friend. She didn’t know these people, or their social landscape, but one thing she was sure of, was that Valorum's innocence or corruption was, at this moment, secondary to whether he could help Naboo, and Palpatine didn’t believe he could. 

Padmé sat, dismayed and conflicted, as Palpatine took his leave. She kept her face blank, her hands relaxed, and told herself sternly that it would be very rude to scream in frustration. Had it all been for nothing? Palpatine seemed to think so. Deep hells, Palpatine seemed to think that they’d have to submit to the Trade Federation’s treaty. Had she come all this way for nothing? And if the Senate couldn’t help Naboo, what hope did Tatooine have? Had she misled Daenerys, however unintentionally?

“My Lady, are you all right?” Sabé asked, jerking Padmé out of her thoughts.

“Yes, thank you.” She glanced at Daenerys, and found the _ Anoon _with a similarly blank face as she stared after Palpatine, but there was something that gave Padmé the impression of deep suspicion. “Sabé, would you give me a moment, please?”

“Of course,” Sabé said, slipping out of the room.

Daenerys glanced down at her. “Does that include me?”

“No, I-” Padmé gathered herself, “_Anoon _, if what Senator Palpatine says is true-”

“He doesn’t seem to think much of the Senate, does he. Was he the one that sent the Jedi to fetch you?”

“No, Chancellor Valorum sent them.”

“Mm. So, without Valorum, you would be trapped on Naboo, I would be trapped on Tatooine, and neither of us would be here to cause a headache for Palpatine.”

“Senator Palpatine is loyal to me,” Padmé defended him, although his earlier assumption about Daenerys troubled her, “He was instrumental in my election over King Veruna.”

One lekku twitched, but Padmé had no idea what it meant. “You are more familiar with Palpatine than I am.”

“_Anoon- _”

“Daenerys, please. I think we’re officially on a first-name basis, don’t you?”

“I- yes.” Padmé drew a long, steadying breath. “I hope I have not led you on a fool’s errand.”

“It can’t hurt to try, can it? I mean, we’ve come all this way….”

“Indeed.” Padmé felt a fraction of the weight lift off her shoulders. Daenerys always seemed to have that effect. “I must try to save my people, and I know you do too.”

“Then, we will do our best. I just have one question.”

“Yes?”

“Valorum has scheduled this special session for Naboo. How are we going to introduce Tatooine?”

“Well, I was thinking you might come along wearing a handmaiden cloak,” Padmé shifted in her seat. It wasn’t the best or most original plan. “Once I’ve spoken, I can ask for you to be heard.”

“Queen Amidala, are you telling me you mean to sneak me in, like contraband sweets?” Daenerys asked with a small, delighted grin, lekku twitching in what Padmé guessed was amusement. 

“I-” Padmé blushed, "I’m sorry, I can’t think of a quicker way-”

“No, there’s no need for apologies. Thank you for your efforts,” Daenerys smiled, and Padmé’s heart skipped a beat.

* * *

Standing before the Senate was intimidating, and even worse, everything was going wrong. Her accusations needed ‘evidence,’ as if her word was not enough, as if Palpatine’s word was not enough, and now their plea would be in _ committee _. There would be no resolution here, not in time to help her people. Palpatine whispered in her ear, urging her to call for a vote of no-confidence, and her own disappointment and spite urged her to comply, as well as a sliver of hope - a new chancellor might move things better, faster-

Daenerys stood at her other elbow, and Padmé stiffened her spine. There was no guarantee that a new chancellor would change anything at all. “Chancellor Valorum, I beg one more thing of the Senate.”

“Yes, Queen Amidala?”

“This is _ Anoon _Daenerys, of Tatooine. I ask that she be allowed to address her plight to the Senate, that the Republic might give aid to a valiant leader in desperate straits.”

“The Chair recognizes _ Anoon _Daenerys,” Valorum said, not turning a hair at this new development. An embattled and exhausted ally, but an ally nonetheless.

Padmé stood to one side, and Daenerys stepped up, dignified and calm in the face of the Senate’s hubbub and one faint cry that might have come from Ryloth’s seat - Padmé couldn’t make out what was said, but it didn’t sound complementary.

There was less open opposition to Daenerys’ plea for aid. ‘Probably because the Hutts haven’t bought a seat in the Senate, yet,’ Padmé thought bitterly. There wasn’t much support, either, and in the end, the Senate moved on to other business and dithered endlessly over some minute detail on a bill being voted on in two days, Padmé had really stopped paying attention by then, and stalked out of the Senate chamber as soon as she could get away with without looking like she was running. Palpatine stayed behind, expression bland, but she suspected he was peeved that she hadn’t played to script. Well, he could go feed a Colo Claw fish - he served at her pleasure, not the other way around.

* * *

Back at Palpatine’s quarters, the handmaidens moved around Padmé as if she were a mannequin, removing the formal gown and headdress. Daenerys sat off to one side, comfortable in her blue dress, pants, and boots. Stars, but Padmé envied her the simple outfit. She saw Rabé start to bring the headdress for the black dress.

“No.”

Rabé hesitated. “Did you want a different outfit, mi’lady?” she asked, code for asking if Padmé wanted to switch with Sabé.

“The one from Tatooine, but without the top half,” she specified, abruptly tired of facepaint and formality.

“Mi’lady, are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” She was young for a monarch - not the youngest ever, but the typical full outfits both bolstered her confidence, and let Sabé impersonate her with relative ease. Given the Trade Federation’s ire, that might well be needed, especially given the mysterious circumstances of her predecessor’s death. On the other hand, given how much the Senate _ didn’t _ work in her favour, the Trade Federation might see no need to openly target her and risk a...what had Palpatine called it earlier? A ‘sympathy vote.’

Makeover complete and handmaidens dismissed, she sat down next to Daenerys.

“So. I’ve led you away from your people on a fool’s errand.”

“It was a gamble, and I knew it,” Daenerys shrugged. “But I must return to Tatooine as soon as possible.”

Padmé nodded. “The yacht is yours, as I promised.”

“And what of you? Will you stay on Coruscant, try again?”

“No,” Padmé took a deep breath and released it slowly. “The Senate is not what I thought, and I refuse to let my people suffer while I sit here in luxury. I will return to Naboo.” 

Daenerys nodded, and they sat for a moment in companionable silence. 

Daenerys reached up to tug lightly at one lekku. “Do you have a plan of attack?”

“Attack?” Padmé asked, startled. “No, that’s…. I’m afraid not. I have no weapons, no army, no support. But my place is with my people.”

Daenerys looked away, eyes unfocused in thought. “Would you help Tatooine, if you could?”

“Yes,” Padmé sat straighter. “If I could, yes, absolutely. But I’m afraid I can’t even help myself.” She sagged down again.

“Perhaps we can help each other,” Daenerys said, turning to face Padmé fully, determination lighting her eyes. 

Padmé sat up, spine straightening to mirror Daenerys’. “Help each other? How?”

Daenerys held out a hand. “A treaty. Between Naboo and Tatooine. What do you say?”

“I- I don’t see how- I mean, we can’t even….” Daenerys’ hand didn’t move, still waiting. A wild determination flooded Padmé. Daenerys wasn’t giving up, how could Padmé? “All right. A treaty.” She reached out and took Daenerys’ hand, feeling the soft warmth of it, the callouses here and there. Padmé’s heart was racing, though she didn’t know why. They shook on it.

Drawing back, Daenerys narrowed her eyes in thought. “What kind of forces does the Trade Federation have? Ships? Armies? Mercenaries, maybe?”

“Droids, mostly,” Padmé said, puzzled at what Daenerys was getting at. “B1-battle droids, but they have an army of them.”

“What scale are we talking? Hundreds? Thousands? Millions?”

“I‘m not sure. I never got a good estimate.”

“Guess.”

Padmé thought for a moment. “Maybe hundreds, possibly thousands.”

“Mm. You said they blockaded you. How many ships, what kind of weaponry?”

“Daenerys, you can’t seriously be thinking about-”

“I’m just seeing what we have to work with. Now, ship strength?”

Padmé frowned. “Well… Panaka said something about twenty-four Federation dreadnoughts….”

“Mmm. Panaka is the head of your security, right?”

“Yes.”

“I think we need to have a meeting with him and my dragons. Would that be possible?”

“I suppose so,” Padmé said, starting to catch Daenerys’ fire.

A com chirped, startling them both, then chirped again. Padmé dug around in her sleeves for the com unit her handmaidens had transferred to it.

“Hello?”

“Hello, I’m trying to reach Queen Amidala?”

Padmé covered the com with one hand, adopting her more formal persona. Pitching her voice lower, she spoke. “This is Queen Amidala.”

“Ah, Queen Amidala, I’m glad I reached you.”

“Chancellor Valorum,” Padmé said, “this is a surprise.”

“Would you be able to come over to my apartments? There are some people who would like to meet you and _ Anoon _Daenerys.”

Padmé hesitated. “What kind of people?”

“Possible allies, your Majesty.”

Padmé glanced up at Daenerys, who was listening to the exchange with interest. “We’ll be there shortly, Chancellor.” Padmé ended the call.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t take my boots off,” Daenerys joked, and once again Padmé had to envy her the simpler wardrobe.

“Sabé!” she called. Looked like it was time to get dressed up. Again.

With a flurry of activity she had them dress her in the black silk dress with the triangular sleeves, accented with beaded emblems on both the outside and the visible part of the interior of the wide sleeves. Rabé and Yane handled the re-application of the royal facepaint and pinning a fan-shaped wig with prominent foreknot into place.

Daenerys stood to one side, looking on with fascination. “That never gets less impressive,” she said, “and you wear it very well.” 

Padmé felt her cheeks heat under the white facepaint, but only said, “Thank you.”

“Now we just have to figure out how to get you there,” Sabé said. While getting dressed, Padmé had admitted to her Handmaidens that she and Daenerys had taken Palpatine’s shuttle from the Senate, and then sent it back, since she thought she’d have no further need of it.

“There has to be a parking area somewhere, right?” Daenerys asked. “Does your senator have any other vehicles?”

“I...suppose he might, yes. Why?” Padmé asked, and Daenerys quirked the smile that Padmé was starting to recognize as trouble brewing.

Qui-Gon, as it turned out, had a deft hand at hotwiring speeders, which Padmé was both shocked and very secretly impressed by. Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin rode up front in their borrowed speeder, which might or might not belong to Palpatine, and Padmé and Daenerys rode in the middle. Panaka and Sabé took the back, and Padmé could feel Panaka’s scowl from where she sat, but oceans take it, he could just deal with it.

Qui-Gon was either quite widely traveled, or a fast learner, given the ease with which he navigated the various traffic streams to get them to Valorum’s apartments.

“Isn’t that Padawan Bant?” Obi-Wan asked as Sabé was helping Padmé out of the speeder. Padmé looked over as Obi-Wan called out to the beige-clad Mon Cal, who was indeed their former Jedi escort.

“You’re all here! I was wondering why the Chancellor had asked for me,” Bant admitted.

“Apparently we’re to meet some senators,” Padmé said, feeling a bit less formal than usual, even in the heavy gown.

The door opened, and Chancellor Valorum greeted them with a tired smile. “Excellent. Come in, everyone, there are some people I’d like you to meet, and I believe Padawan Bant has some news for the _ Anoon _?”

“Let’s meet everyone, then you can tell me,” Daenerys said, curiosity piqued.

They all filed in, and Padmé stopped dead. “Uncle Ono!” she exclaimed in surprise. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to her that the Naberrie family’s good friend was, indeed, on Coruscant.

“Little Padmé!” the Rodian senator said, snout crinkling in happiness. “You were very impressive out there today. Your parents would be proud of you.”

“I- Thank you,” she said, blushing and feeling younger than she had in several weeks. She hoped Uncle Ono hadn’t recorded her little speech to play for her parents, but knew he probably had. “Oh! I’m sorry, Uncle Ono, this is _ Anoon _Daenerys Stormborn, leader of Tatooine,” she said, beginning introductions.

The other two senators were Bail Antilles, of Alderaan, and Garm Bel Iblis, of Corellia. Along with Uncle Ono - Onaconda Farr, of Rodia - they wanted to help both Naboo and Tatooine. 

Padmé didn’t consider herself charismatic, but she could be outgoing and friendly, and held her own in conversation. Daenerys, however, was very charismatic indeed, and her beauty didn’t hurt either. On the one hand, Padmé was a bit jealous. On the other, given Daenerys’ past, Padmé didn’t know if that was fair of her, and Daenerys was, after all, just doing the best she could for Tatooine. 

Shelving her complicated bundle of emotions to deal with later, Padmé heard Daenerys say, “-our treaty with Naboo comes first, but we would certainly be open to discussing trade treaties with Rodia and Corellia.”

“All of this is speculative, of course,” Bel Iblis cautioned. “We’re not the policy-makers for our systems, only their representatives in the Senate.”

“But you do have some influence with your leaders,” Padmé said. “And Tatooine and Rodia are practically neighbours.”

And so it went for what felt like hours. There were several promising proposals made, and by the end of the little gathering, Padmé was almost as exhausted as Chancellor Valorum looked, but it felt like real progress had been made.

Bant had been able to plead the case for supplying food to Tatooine to the Jedi Council, and apparently they did have a minor surplus of their usual stock that could be allocated to Tatooine within a month if the Council agreed.

Corellia was, among other things, famous for producing ships, and though Tatooine had little in the way of credits or things to trade, Naboo could easily trade or purchase outright some of what Tatooine might require. Padmé might have a difficult time getting that past her advisors, but fighting slavery and supporting allies were worthy causes.

Given Corellia’s distance from Tatooine, the dire straits Naboo was in, and all the small details that would need to be negotiated, that was a goal for months down the line, but it was better than nothing.

Rodia was, as Padmé has pointed out, practically neighbours with Tatooine, and Uncle Ono might be able to get the Rodian leadership to send a few ships - not that they had many - to help Tatooine in the short term. At the very least, to bring them the supplies and tech they’d need to reestablish basic functions.

Bail Antilles had promised to speak to the leader of Alderaan - his fiancee - about allocating some funds outright to help Tatooine.

Corellia would also be willing to sell ships to Naboo - Padmé’s system was certainly rich enough to afford them. Given the Trade Federation blockade, Corellia might even be willing to sell the ships on credit. That would take weeks or months to finalize, though, and Padmé’s people were dying even now. If she had to wait months for enough ships to fight back against the Federation, even though she could supply the pilots, she wasn’t sure there’d be a home worth the name to go back to.

It was a grim thought, but Padmé didn’t let it stop her, instead using it to strengthen her resolve. The gathering wound down for the evening, everyone separating into little clusters and snacking on the provided finger foods. It felt like the serious horsetrading talk was done for the night, and Padmé wondered if she could bow out, or if she should stay and build connections with the senators. Even beyond possible aid, Senator Antilles was very easy to talk to, and seemed to share many of her views. He might be a good ally, and a good friend.

Pondering on that, she smiled at Senator Bel Iblis as their conversation wrapped up and the man went to find something to drink. Chancellor Valorum appeared at her side, and she nodded to him. “Chancellor. You have done Naboo a great service, thank you.”

“I’m only sorry I couldn’t do more,” he said, and to Padmé he sounded sincere. “Palpatine would probably have been able to help you navigate talks with his compatriots even better, I’m sorry I couldn’t reach him.” A wry smile touched Valorum’s face. “Probably busy working. Your Senator is a devoted member of the senate, and a good friend of mine, I admit.”

Padmé smiled woodenly, momentarily stumped. “No need to apologize,” she mustered at last, “You have been most helpful, Chancellor.” They made awkward small-talk for a minute, then Bel Iblis came by to pick up more fingerfood and stopped for conversation about some upcoming bill. Padmé excused herself politely, and found herself at loose ends.

Daenerys coming over was a great relief, as was the smile the young _ Anoon _gave her.

“This has certainly turned out to be a day for surprises,” Daenerys said, sipping on some kind of sparkling fruit juice. “Thank you, by the way, for the support with Senator Farr - Rodia is close enough that if they send aid, it might reach Tatooine in time.” 

“You’re welcome,” Padmé said, much more naturally than with Valorum. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Mm. I noticed that Senator Farr seemed reluctant to throw his lot in with Naboo, yet he seems to know you and your family well?”

Padmé sighed. “It’s the Trade Federation. Tatooine might be facing down the Hutts, but Rodia isn’t controlled by the Hutts. Rodia is, however, as reliant on the Trade Federation as Naboo is, and they don’t want to be the next targets, whether I oust the Federation from Naboo or not.”

“I suppose that makes sense. Too bad we can’t take on the Trade Federation and just. Take them over.”

Padmé pressed her lips together to cover a snort of laughter. “I have quite enough on my plate being Queen of Naboo. I do _ not _ need to be running an entire Trade Federation, thank you.”

“Oh well,” Daenerys said with a shrug, and they stood in companionable silence as the others eddied around them, the gathering starting to wind down. “Is there something wrong? Something else, that is,” Daenerys asked.

“What?” Padmé asked, startled.

“You keep looking at Chancellor Valorum and frowning.”

“I- He thinks of Palpatine as a friend,” Padmé found herself admitting.

“Then he should invest in better friends,” Daenerys responded, throwing an incredulous look at the Chancellor, who stood alone, Bel Iblis finally having finished bending his ear.

“I don’t know if I should say anything,” Padmé fretted. “He hardly knows me, and Palpatine is his friend. Why should he believe me if I tell him that Palpatine was urging me to move against him?” She sighed. “But Valorum has also been our ally - how do I justify not warning him that Palpatine might be plotting against him?”

“That is a difficult position,” Daenerys said, tapping one lekku. “Sabé was in the room with us when it happened, and even Panaka might have overheard some of it. Why not send Sabé over to tell him what you heard? She can corroborate it as well, if he asks.”

“So, a wild story from two people he doesn’t know, instead of just one.”

Daenerys shrugged. “I’d want to know, if it were me. He can investigate on his own or reject it out of hand, that’s up to him.”

Padmé thought that over, then caught Sabé’s eye and motioned for her to join them. She quickly told her Handmaiden what to do, then watched her tell the Chancellor. There wasn’t a lot of reaction, but Valorum did look up at her and incline his head in acknowledgement.

Padmé inclined her head in return, not sure if she’d done the right thing. But this wasn’t the problem she was here to fix, she reminded herself.

“You’re very good at this. Communications and politics and everything,” she commented to Daenerys.

“For a former slave, you mean?” Daenerys asked, an edge of a bite to her smile.

Padmé drew herself up. “No, for anyone.” She looked away. “I was very ignorant when I came to Tatooine, and I don’t suppose I’m much less so now. I apologize for any offense I may have given-”

“Padmé, stop, it’s alright,” Daenerys interrupted, voice softer. “I apologize too. I can sometimes leap before I look - I know you didn’t mean any insult.” She smiled, and reached out to give Padmé’s hand a quick, gentle touch. “Political aptitude can be found in anyone, but training helps to hone it, and I have had exposure, albeit second-hand, to politicking, from an early age.”

“You have?” Padmé had to ask. She didn’t want to pry, but she was curious.

Daenerys’ lekku moved, but not in the way that meant amused. “My family were...regional warlords, or royalty, I suppose you’d say. My parents and most of the rest of my family were killed when I was very young, but my brother and I survived. We grew up in the courts of politicians and aristocrats on Ryloth who’d been allies to our family, and were either sympathetic to a possible heir, or ambitious enough to want to support a potential heir who might reward them greatly, if his bid for power paid off.”

“What happened?” Padmé asked when Daenerys fell silent for a long moment. “Did he try and fail?”

Daenerys’ lips twitched, but she didn’t smile. “I don’t know. My brother didn’t have quite enough support or money to pull off an attempt like that. Not, that is, until he sold me to Jabba. I fetched quite a price.”

“I’m so sorry,” Padmé said, aghast. Black depths, it seemed like such an inadequate response, but she didn’t know what else to say.

Daenerys smiled, this time with real amusement. “Well, I got to kill Jabba with my own hands, and led a slave revolt to free two entire cities on Tatooine. I admit this isn’t the direction I thought my life would take, but here I am on Coruscant, talking to the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, so I suppose the moral of the story is, kill your oppressor?”

Padmé’s eyes went round in shock and her jaw started to drop, then Daenerys leaned in and started to snicker. Oh. She’d been _ joking _. “I don’t think that’s very funny,” Padmé grumbled.

“You’re right, of course,” Daenerys said, pulling back and trying without much success to tame her grin, lekku twitching in what was _ definitely _amusement. “Murder should always be a last resort.”

Padmé was saved from having to find an answer to that by Padawan Bant’s arrival.

“You two seem to be having fun,” she commented.

“Just commenting on politics,” Daenerys said, and Padmé shot her a dirty look.

“Something like that. Are you returning to the Temple?” she asked Bant.

“I should, yes,” she said, but looked a bit reluctant.

“What’s going to happen with Master Tahl?” Padmé asked.

“I don’t know,” the young Jedi admitted, a bit of anxiety showing through what Padmé was beginning to recognize as typical Jedi serenity. “We haven’t had any word from my Master or Tatooine. Presumably the Council will send me to join her, unless she returns...it’s really very nebulous right now. I am glad we were able to help you complete your mission though,” she said, smiling at Padmé.

“But I’m not done yet,” Padmé protested, surprising herself. It was true though, she _ wasn’t _done.

“You’ve reached Coruscant, there are Senators helping you. What more can you do?” Bant asked.

“Most of the help they’re offering is for Tatooine, and I am glad of that,” she said, glancing at Daenerys, “but even if Corellia can supply ships for the pilots I have, it would likely take months, and I don’t know if Naboo has that long.” She took a deep breath. “I must return home. I can’t stay here in safety while my people are facing gods know what treatment at the hands of the Trade Federation. People were already being put into camps when I left - I can’t imagine it’s gotten any better.”

“We’re going to try and retake Naboo,” Daenerys clarified.

“‘We?’” Bant asked, eyes even wider than normal. “But you have only a small force-”

“And dragons,” Daenerys interjected.

“And two giant flying lizards that were left behind on Tatooine,” Bant reminded them.

“The dragons go where I go. They will be there when they are needed,” Daenerys said with such certainty that Padmé found herself half-believing the impossible.

“Even if it were only me, I would go,” Padmé said firmly.

“Come with us,” Daenerys said to Bant.

“What?”

“We could use a Jedi, I think. Can’t hurt, right?”

“Your original mission _ was _to mediate the trade dispute,” Padmé reminded her.

“I-....” Bant looked at them in consternation, then looked down, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. She muttered something Padmé couldn't make out, then, after another long moment, looked up. “All right. I’ll come.”

* * *

The nice thing about being a Jedi was, apparently, that you only owned one set of clothes and a lightsaber, so Bant was ready to go as soon as she’d set her mind on it. It must be both delightful and disconcerting to be a Jedi, Padmé thought as Qui-Gon guided the ‘borrowed’ speeder back into its parking spot in Palpatine’s apartment complex.

The air in the speeder was equal parts exhaustion and anticipation, and Padmé’s headdress and robes sat heavy on her. Soon, soon they’d be underway. She just had to do one more thing. 

In a lot of ways, it would be easier if Palpatine weren’t home, but apparently she was to have the satisfaction of saying it to his face.

“Your Majesty,” he said, all smiles, but Padmé had thought long and hard about Palpatine by now, and how him backing her for monarch of Naboo meant an inexperienced leader that might, if things had turned out differently, or if she’d been different, have resulted in an easily directed Queen.

“Senator,” she said icly, Daenerys at one shoulder and Bant at the other, while Sabé went to corral the other handmaidens. She’d automatically thought to have her outfits moved back on board the yacht, but there were still some there, and it was unlikely she’d want to fight in them for any reason. “I am returning to Naboo.”

“Your Majesty, that’s much too dangerous, please-”

“Senator Palpatine, you work for me, and not the other way around. As such, since I have managed to speak to Senators Antilles and Bel Iblis about aid for Naboo, I expect you to carry on negotiations with them in my absence. Is that clear?”

Just for a fraction of a second, something cold and ugly flashed over Palpatine’s features, but then the placid look was back. _ It’s a mask _ . _ It’s all a mask, _ Padmé thought, a shiver running down her back. Was this what happened to all politicians? Or had she just never seen the snake in their midst?

* * *

Obi-Wan opened the door for them as they all piled into the hotwired speeder. It was a tight fit, but manageable.

“How did it go?” Qui-Gon asked, pulling away from the massive building.

“I think we’ve made the right kind of enemy,” Daenerys said, startling Padmé. She couldn’t really argue that, though. She could, theoretically, fire Palpatine - it was within her powers. But if she did, and failed to retake Naboo, there would be no-one at all to fight for her world’s freedom. A corrupt ally was still an ally, she hoped. Maybe only as long as their interests aligned, but surely Palpatine had to have some feeling for his homeworld?

“Senator Palpatine is not our enemy,” Panaka grumbled beside Padmé, shooting Daenerys an annoyed look. Padmé kept her gaze focussed ahead, not willing to have the argument she knew it would be to try and change Panaka’s mind. The man was loyal, but he was stubborn to a fault, and that cut both ways.

“Can anyone think of anything we need to get on Coruscant before we leave?” Padmé asked the room at large.

There was a general murmur of negation. “Not if we want to make good time to Naboo, your Highness,” Qui-Gon said. “I assume we are going to Naboo?”

“Yes,” Daenerys answered, and that seemed to be enough for Qui-Gon. Anakin, however, peered over the front seats from where he was wedged between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.

“Can we stop and see if Mom is okay? I’m worried about her.”

“It would take a day or more to divert to Tatooine,” Qui-Gon said, “even if we’re using the Corellian Run route.”

“But we can try and contact them when we change hyperlanes,” Padmé said. “We have to stop and reorient anyway.”

“There hasn’t been any word from Tatooine that I know of,” Bant cautioned. “They may not have coms yet.”

“No, but Rodia does,” Padmé said, thinking quickly. “If Senator Farr can convince them to send aid, they may know what’s going on there, and if Rodia does send aid, Tatooine itself may have coms by then.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Obi-Wan said.

“We’ll check up on Shmi,” Qui-Gon reassured Anakin, ruffling the boy’s hair with one hand.


	3. Chapter 3

The flight back was even more nerve-wracking than the flight out. 

Part of the problem was that they had very little to fight with. The bulk of the problem was that they had no way to prepare - there were several rounds of planning, but that was to pass the time as much as anything, Padmé thought. They didn’t know what kind of forces they’d be facing, they didn’t know what the situation on the ground would be, outside of ‘bad,’ and they didn’t know if there would be any active resistance able to offer weapons and aid once they got down to the planet. All they could do was prepare for the worst.

One bright spot, halfway through the journey, was that they were able to confirm that the Hutts hadn’t attacked Tatooine yet. Even better, the first wave (all two of the small cargo ships) of Rodian aid had arrived. Food was tight, but the ‘Tatooine Council,’ as they’d dubbed themselves, were holding things together. Shmi was doing fine, which had buoyed Anakin’s spirits a great deal.

On the day of arrival at Naboo, Padmé dressed as a Handmaiden again, though she let Bant and Daenerys know about the deception, much to Panaka’s glowering displeasure. She really was becoming inured to his dark looks, she thought. Maybe she was growing into her authority. Then again, maybe she was just becoming more reckless. Well, conservative action would have seen them still huddled on Coruscant, so nuts to that.

They came back to realspace heading towards the blue bulk of Naboo, scanners stretched to their limits. Ric Olié bit off a curse, probably mindful of his Queen - Sabé in disguise, but he didn’t know that - standing behind him.

“The blockade is still there,” Padmé said, stating the obvious. Even at these distances, she could see the specks of grey floating between them and her home.

“Not going to lie, Handmaiden, I was hoping they’d be gone,” Olié said grimly.

“It might mean they haven’t subjugated Naboo completely,” Padmé said, holding out hope. They’d speculated about it on the way here - if the Trade Federation felt they didn’t have to keep any Naboo ships from leaving, they might have pulled the blockade, sending their ships to haul cargo somewhere - they were a _ Trade _Federation, after all. The blockade’s presence here might mean that there was still active resistance on Naboo, but it did make it harder to get down to the surface.

“They’re starting to react to us - they’re arming their laserbanks, and I’m picking up vulture droids.”

“I think it’s time we got an escort,” Daenerys said, tapping the com at her wrist. “Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, are you ready?”

“Yes, _ Anoon _.”

“_Anoon _ Daenerys,” Padmé asked, keeping up the charade of formality, “how do you plan to have Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan protect us? Are they something like Jedi?”

“Not exactly,” Daenerys said. 

Co-pilot Dineé’s hand shot out to press a button by a red light. “Someone’s trying to release the back cargo hatch,” she said in alarm.

“That would be Qui-Gon. Let them go.”

“I- “ Dineé looked from Daenerys to Sabé. “Your Majesty?”

“_Anoon _ Daenerys, what-?” Sabé started to ask.

“We know what we’re doing, your Highness. Trust us.”

Sabé exchanged a look with Padmé, who did a tiny headwaggle. Uncertain. “...Dineé, bring up the vid feed from the cargo cubicle,” Sabé ordered.

The feed popped up on a side-screen. The two men stood, calm and collected. Obi-Wan tapped his com. “_Anoon _, I don’t mean to rush you, but could you convince our hosts to let us do our job?”

“Trust us,” Daenerys repeated. Padmé pursed her lips.

“Your Majesty, we’ve got incoming,” Ric Olié reported.

Padmé flashed a covert handsign at Sabé. “Let them out,” Sabé said to Dineé.

“Yes, your Majesty,” she said dubiously, pressing a button to restore control to the hold.

Padmé watched, shoulders tight, as Qui-Gon worked the controls. She trusted Daenerys but this was highly unusual and, frankly, deadly.

With the hold depressurized, the door started to open. It looked a lot less impressive than the same move would in atmosphere - there was no wind to set robes to billowing or hair to flying. Still, the hard vacuum didn’t seem to bother the two men, who took hold of either side of the doorframe, and- wait, were they glowing? Padmé drew in a sharp breath as the glow enveloped them just as they launched themselves from the hold, one after the other.

“_E chu ta _!” Olié spat out. “Where-?!”

“Easy,” Daenerys said, putting a steadying hand on Olié’s shoulder. “They’re on our side.”

Two massive winged reptiles flanked the yacht, flying as if their wings cupped air with every infrequent beat. On the left, a dragon of burnished copper, on the right, a silver-grey one, slightly larger than the copper one. For all the speed the yacht was putting on, the dragons pulled ahead as if it was standing still, streaking ahead to engage the vulture droids that were already starting to pepper the area with laserfire.

“Take us in, they’ll protect us,” Daenerys said.

Padmé stared out the viewscreen, transfixed, as the copper one caught one droid in its claws, tucked its wings to its sides, and threw its weight around to swing the vulture droid off its course, releasing it to crash into another vulture droid with a small explosion that sent both spiraling away. It was some fancy flying, but would it suffice? Fancy flying might not be enough against lasers, especially with the second wave coming in.

The silver one flew as fast, but with less fancy moves, and then it drew in a huge breath as if it were in atmosphere. It held the breath for a moment, and when it breathed out, a massive plume of- fire?! Some kind of- was it incandescent plasma? It couldn’t possibly be actual fire, not without oxygen to fuel it. Whatever it was, it was effective. Where it splashed against the vulture droids, it clung and ate through reinforced metal as if it were flimsiplast.

A small, disbelieving smile tugged at the corners of Padmé’s mouth, and she looked at Daenerys to find the twi’lek looking back at her with a matching smile.

Ric Olié sent the yacht in behind the dragons. It wasn’t all smooth sailing - they had to dodge some droid fighters, and there was a bad moment when they were crossing underneath two blockade ships and taking fire from both, but their impossible escort kept them from getting mobbed, and within minutes they were burning through atmosphere, diving down towards the forested ground below. Olié jerked the nose up and sent them skimming over tree tops for a few dozen kilometers, probably trying to throw off any target locks with the confusion of objects - Padmé really had to give the man some kind of promotion or reward, she thought.

Settling down into a small clearing, Panaka herded everyone out the door as quickly as possible. “If they find the ship, we don’t want them to find us,” he explained. “We’re only a few hours away from Theed by foot - once we get there, there might be some security forces I can get in touch with, if they’ve managed to escape capture.”

They made it to Theed before nightfall, but the safe-house Panaka took them to was deserted and half-collapsed - it looked like the droids had found that one. Grim-faced, Panaka led them a back way along the outer edge of Theed, avoiding the patrolling B1 droids as they headed for the next possible location. Padmé glanced behind her at Daenerys, to find that Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had rejoined their group. She almost asked how they’d found them, but she had the feeling it would be one of those things she’d just have to accept.

The second safe-house was little more than a shed, hidden in the backwoods of a large estate, and when Panaka swung the door open, the sound of blasters charging whined in the late evening air. “Yousa be raisen dem hands,” a harsh voice said. 

“We don’t want a fight,” Panaka said as he complied. 

“Is that- Sir?!” a second voice called from the shed.

Padmé motioned for her handmaidens to keep their blasters out of sight. 

“Sir, it’s me, Arven.”

“Yousa knowen dissen?” the first voice asked.

“Yeah. Rakken, it’s okay, this is Panaka, he’s head of security for- is the queen with you?”

“Can I put my hands down?” Panaka asked.

There was a pause, then the first voice said, “Yes.”

Panaka did so, backing up to let the two speakers out of the house. A Gungan and a Naboo - a young dark-skinned human man - stepped out, both dressed in drab clothes with what looked like woven mesh armour, or something like it, over that.

“You’re working with the Gungans?” Panaka asked, a sharp edge to his voice.

Arven’s expression went cool. “The Bombad General is the only reason there’s still a credible resistance. So yes, we’re working with the Gungans. Sir.” 

“The _ what _?” Panaka asked.

Padmé nudged Sabé and gave her a meaningful look. Sabé drew herself up. “However this alliance has come about, it would seem to work to our advantage, Captain.”

“Your Majesty,” Arven beamed, giving a quick but genuine bow. “It’s wonderful to see you again - the Nemoidians kept saying you were dead, or that you’d run off and left Naboo.”

“I would never,” Sabé said. “My place is here, with my people.”

“Thank you, your Majesty. Rakken,” he said, turning to the Gungan, “we should take them to the General.”

“Mm, My thinken yousa right,” Rakken allowed. “Yousa take dem to de Sacred Place, and my goin’ ahead to tell de Bombad General.”

“Okay,” Arven nodded, then turned to face Sabé again. “Your Majesty…?”

Sabé waited a moment to give Padmé time to interject, if needed. “We will follow you.”

* * *

The Sacred Place turned out to be deep in the swamps, with half-sunken statues scattered here and there. It was dusk by the time they arrived, and the Gungan Rakken was waiting for them.

“Dis way,” he said, motioning for them to follow him to a camouflaged tent. Padmé flashed a handsign to Sabé in the weak light, and the Queen motioned for the pilots and other handmaidens to wait outside. Panaka came with them, and Padmé honestly didn’t think she could leave him outside if she tried. Daenerys chose Qui-Gon to accompany her, and Bant joined them. It was a sizeable group entering the tent.

“Bombad General, de Naboo Biggun issin here,” Rakken said, standing aside to let them enter.

Sabé led the group, with Padmé and Daenerys right behind her. Inside, three Gungans looked up from a holo-table displaying Theed and the Royal Castle. The one in the middle stepped around to meet them. He wasn’t especially tall for a gungan, which meant he was only a head taller than either Padmé or Daenerys.

“My bein’ Robbo Stark, of de Deepwater,” the General said, then gestured back to the other two, who’d come to join him. “Dese bein Jon-Jon Umba, and Katti Stark. My welcomin’ yousa to mesa tent.”

“I am Queen Amidala of the Naboo,” Sabé said, “I come to you in peace.” She gestured to her side, “My companions are _ Anoon _Daenerys of Tatooine, and Jedi Bant. We hope to discuss an alliance with you.”

“Wesa talkin soon, but first, dersa water and food, for hungry Naboo and dere allies.”

Padmé finally noticed the table off to the side. It was laden with food, mostly fish, something that looked like flatbread, and local fruits from the marsh. Someone’s stomach growled audibly.

Sabé hesitated, then said, “Thank you, that is most kind of you,” and nodded to the group. They all congregated to the food-laden table, sitting down and inspecting the platters. Robbo and the other two gungans joined them, and while space was tight, everyone managed to fit around the table. Padmé nibbled on a mouthful of fish, her own stomach letting her know that it hadn’t had anything since breakfast.

For a few minutes there was nothing but the sound of people eating their fill, and the low murmur of mealtime around a table.

“You’sun solved a few problems for mesa by returnin, Naboo Biggun, and makin some more,” Robbo said once the platters were mostly empty, and Padmé thought he might be smiling just a bit. Serious, but not angry.

“What do you mean, Queen Amidala’s return caused problems?” Bant asked.

“If de Mekaneeks knowin she’s here, dey-sa turnin de whole planet inside out to find her. Wesa low on numbers, so de smarty ting to do issen to have mesa troops withdraw, other way dey mebbe bein’ found and captured. But wesa no-affordin to let up de sabotage runs and raids."

“What kind of raids are you running? Supplies?” Daenerys asked.

“Rescues,” Robbo said. “De Mekaneeks capture de Naboo and de Gungans, put dem in camps. Mesa sisters in de camps, somewhere, and many of oursa friends and family. De Naboo, dey are taken care of. De Gungans…not so much. Wesa be tryin to rescue dem before de Mekaneeks kill dem.”

Bant tilted her head, swallowing some fruit. “Why would you need the Queen to rally the Naboo? Isn’t the destruction of their home enough to make them join you in fighting back?”

Robbo gave a bark of what was probably laughter. “Yousa not from here, eh?” He shook his head. “Many of de Naboo die before lowering demselves to be takin orders from a ‘Gungan savage.’” He let that sit just long enough for Padmé to realize that what he’d said was true. “But if yousa willin to lead your-sa people, Naboo Biggun,” he said, looking at Sabé, “wesa fight together, and wesa be winnen dis war, methinks.”

Sabé put down a bit of bread and drew herself up, giving the Gungan general a cool look. “Then, you want _ us _ to take orders from you.”

“Bah, my tellin yousa,” Jon-Jon said, scowling heavily at Sabé, “De Naboo Biggun not workin with us. Wesa not need dem, wesa win dis war oursen-selves, kick de Mekaneeks _ and _ de Naboo out. Wesa havin Naboo for oursen-selves gain!”

“No!” Katti cut in, glaring at Jon-Jon, “Wesa only do dis to be gettin our-sa people - our-sa families back-”

“Tch-tch-tch!” Jon-Jon scoffed. “Yousa tink wesa goin’ back to how tings was before? Yousa _ wantin _ to go back to how tings was before?”

“Enough!” Robbo said loudly, hands down flat on the table, glaring from Jon-Jon to Katti and back. He let the silence stretch for a moment, then turned to Jon-Jon. 

“Wesa already tried to get to de ships, and wesa failin. _ If _ wesa take Theed, _ if _ de Trade Federation Biggun is dere, _ if _ wesa capturin hissen, _ maybe _ wesa build from dere. Dat too many ‘ifs’ for mesa liking. Wesa need all de help wesa find. De Queen bein’ here now, an alliance bein’ a _ big _ help.”

“And yet at least some of you speak of driving the Naboo from our world entirely,” Sabé said, more stiffly than her usual Queen Amidala impersonation called for. “What guarantee do we have-”

“Bombad General,” Padmé said putting a hand on Sabé’s arm, who fell silent.

“Whosa dissen?” Robbo asked, not in dismissal, but with what sounded like honest curiosity.

A thousand thoughts crowded Padmé’s head. She, like Sabé, found the Gungan manner of speech ridiculous, their clothes and ways primitive, their actions violent. Part of her sympathized with her people who refused to work with the Gungans. And she knew, with absolute certainty, that she was wrong.

Yes, the Naboo abhorred war. Violence wounded the psyche, and propagated more violence, but if she and her people did not fight back against the Trade Federation, violence would still be committed upon them, and it was impossible to heal wounds - physical, emotional, or mental - if one were dead. “I am Queen Amidala. Sabé,” she glanced back at her friend, “is my decoy. I apologize for the deception, but considering the situation with the Trade Federation, it has been necessary for my safety.”

General Robbo regarded her with interest. “Mm, effective, iffen dey no shoot yoursa handmaidens to make a point. But, my tink yousa show yousa identity for a reason?”

“You are correct.” She looked him in the eye, putting on as much of a regal air as she could without her robes and facepaint. “In fact, you are correct about many things. Our only hope of victory _ is _ to ally our forces. As such, I would like to take you up on your offer.”

Robbo regarded her for a long moment, then gave a solemn nod. “An alliance, den.”

“An alliance,” Padmé repeated. She glanced at the holotable, where a small translucent image still hovered. “General Robbo, I have some questions, if you don’t mind. Why do you care about Theed? It’s not your capital.” 

General Robbo shrugged. “Because de Mekaneeks do. Tis a symbol, to dem and to yousa, of how bombad dey are, that dey can take de Naboo Biggun’s home.” Padmé had honestly not thought of it that way, but she suspected General Robbo was right. “Also, de Trade Federation Biggun is dere, we tink. Takin’ Theed be good. Takin’ de Trade Federation Biggun could end de war.”

“And what kind of timeframe are you looking at?” she continued.

“To build our-sa forces? To push de Mekaneeks offin oursa world?” He paused, glancing off to the side and frowning, obviously running revised estimates of what forces they might be able to count on. “Four, mebbe three months. Mebbe two, if wesa very lucky.” 

“Months....” Padmé repeated, frowning at her empty plate.

Jon-Jon leaned forward with a sneer. “Why, yousa havin’ somewhere else to be?”

“I have promised to aid _ Anoon _Daenerys,” Padmé said, looking over at Daenerys. “Her situation is as dire as ours, if not more so.”

“Dat bein’ pretty dire,” Robbo said.

“The Hutts are not known for being forgiving, and I have murdered one of their number and taken over some of his territory,” Daenerys admitted, and gave them a quick summary of Tatooine’s precarious position.

Robbo frowned in thought. “Dat bein very difficult. But dere’s no way to speed up a war.”

“Would dragons help?” Daenerys asked.

“Dragons? What bein’ a dragon?”

“Air support,” Padmé expanded, “the equivalent of a handful of vulture droids, or more.”

General Robbo leaned back, rolling that around in his head. “Mebbe some, dependin on what wesa doin.”

Daenerys tried another tack. “You said something about capturing the Trade Federation viceroy. What kind of plan did you have in mind?”

Robbo shook his head. “Tis a fool’s dream - draw out de Mekaneeks from Theed, sneak in, and capture deir leader. But wesa not havin’ enough forces to split dat way, and wesa not havin’ protection against deir flying Mekaneeks, and while wesa mebbe able to find de secret passages Avren describin, wesa not know iffen de leader is _ in _yoursa palace, or on board one of de ships.”

Bant chimed in again. “General Robbo, I may have a way to find that out.”

“Howso?” Robbo asked. Curious but not disbelieving.

“Well, I _ am _a Jedi, after all. We’re famous for sticking our noses into places they’re not wanted,” she grinned.

* * *

Robbo, as it turned out, was willing to be patient out of necessity, but given the opportunity to end things sooner, he’d at least investigate it. They hashed out notions and plans, and slowly an idea started to come together. The first order of business was to find out if it was even feasible, and so the next day Bant was sent out to scout the Palace, with instructions from Padmé on how to find and navigate the secret passages.

Everyone gathered around the com, an anticipatory hush over the entire tent. They’d agreed that having the com open would be better, in case Bant got caught, so that they’d know what happened. The connection from them to Bant was muted unless they specifically wanted to talk, in case a random passerby outside the tent was unexpectedly loud at the worst moment.

“Your Highness,” Bant said, soon after she’d exited the tunnels, “about those pilots you have. Are their ships yellow and chrome?”

“Yes?” Padmé confirmed. “They were in the hanger.”

“You mean they _ are _ in the hanger,” Bant corrected.

“They didn’t move them?” Panaka asked incredulously.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Bant said. “Maybe those pilots will come in handy after all. Okay, I’m heading into the palace proper.”

Everyone fell silent, awaiting all of Padawan Bant’s updates and comments with bated breath. Once she’d reached the top floor, she fell silent for a long time, and Padmé checked the com’s light to make sure it was still on.

“Your Highness,” Bant finally said, barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Jedi Bant?” Padmé asked, almost as quiet.

“What did you say the name of the Trade Federation viceroy was?”

“Nute Gunray.”

Still just as quiet, but with satisfaction, Bant said, “He’s here.”

“Is dis feelin’ too convenient to anybody else?” Robbo asked.

“Not just me then. Okay,” Bant replied.

Padmé shook her head. “I just don’t see how it _ could _be a trap.”

“Well, we can’t wait around all week. If it’s a trap I say we spring it,” Obi-Wan opined.

“Hold on, someone’s coming,” Bant said.

There was a long, tense moment as everyone kept quiet, just the indistinct background noise from the com filling the silence.

“It was Gunray,” Bant said, voice still low. “He and one of the others were talking to someone, a cloaked figure. I was too far away to hear what they were saying, but I think I caught something about the Senate. I have a bad feeling about this,” she finished.

“All right, come back. I think we know what we need to,” Padmé said.


	4. Chapter 4

In the pre-dawn mists, the calling horns sounded low and deep, signalling the Gungan and Naboo forces to march. It wasn’t a structured march, and wouldn’t be until they left the swampland, the terrain much too overgrown and boggy for that. Robbo sat astride his kaadu, feeling the large bulk of it under him. He’d fought astride before, but only once - most of their actions were guerilla attacks, sneaking in and out with as little notice or as much damage as possible. This, now, was more akin to the old battles - two forces facing off for nothing more than honour and bragging rights, he thought, then felt a bit guilty. It wasn’t that the old ways were bad, he defended himself against the memory of his father, who’d lived his life by that code of honour. It was only that this wasn’t a fight for honour, but a fight for their families, their home, their very survival.

To Robbo’s left rode Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, and to his right, Jon-Jon. Behind them slogged the rest of the army, although calling it an ‘army’ was generous. Somewhere in the middle, still in a line, for now, the giant fambaas with their shield generators were being carefully guided through the swamps.

“My no likin’ dis,” he said quietly, needing to air some of the turmoil inside him. “Tis muy-muy stupid. Deysa never fallin for it.” He was committing all his forces - _ all _ his forces - to this venture.

“Or,” Qui-Gon said, voice rumbling low, “they’ll assume it’s some brilliant plan, and scramble to meet it.”

“You overestimate the intelligence of the Trade Federation, Bombad General,” Obi-Wan added, calm and amused.

“Iffen nothin else,” Jon-Jon grumbled from his right, sounding grim and determined, “wesa makin’ a muyo temptin target.”

And wasn’t that the truth. Robbo hated putting himself and his people out in the open like this - it went against everything he’d learned in his trial-by-fire during the last few weeks.

“Trust in the Queen and the _ Anoon _,” Qui-Gon said. “We don’t need to win this battle, we only need to give them the chance to win the war.”

“Bebes in dere swaddlin clothes, playin pretend at bombad warriors,” Jon-Jon scoffed under his breath, but it made Robbo smile.

“Yousa sayin’ de same about mesa, when dis startin,” he reminded his vassal.

Robbo resettled himself on his kaadu as Jon-Jon grumbled indistinctly. He’d made his choice, and he’d see it through.

* * *

It was strange, how you could see bits of your first home everywhere you went. Daenerys slipped down the passageway, feeling the comforting press of rock all around. Tatooine reminded her of Ryloth, with its rocky, barren deserts and ferocious storms, but while most buildings on Tatooine were set down into the ground at least a bit, she missed the secure under-mountain cities of Ryloth, and the hidden passageway they were busy traversing gave her an unexpected pang of homesickness.

And, of course, Naboo reminded her of Tatooine, in a strange way. It was the second time in as many months that she’d be taking down a regime built on treachery and trade. Thankfully, she wouldn’t have to rule this one, too. Tatooine was quite enough of a pain in her lekku as it was.

Well, she didn’t _ have _ to rule Mos Espa and Mos Eisley, when it came down to it, and she didn’t _ have _to take on the Hutt Empire. But she was going to, anyway. Who else could she trust to do it, her brother? If he was even still alive, she wouldn’t trust him to take care of a pet rock.

She did trust Padmé to take care of Naboo, however. There was a fire and a determination in the human Queen that burned like Tatooine’s twin suns.

They came out of the passages and scouted around carefully. There were a few B1 droids, but not nearly as many as they’d seen patrolling the day before. As they watched, some of the B1s turned and walked away from the handful still patrolling. Hopefully that meant the plan was working. The little band of infiltrators waited impatiently as the sun crawled up into the sky, until a com on Daenerys’ wrist flashed twice. She nodded at Padmé, and they started to move, splitting up. Panaka led a handful of guards around a building, and Padmé, dressed once again as a handmaiden, led Daenerys, Bant, and the pilots towards the hanger doors.

Panaka’s group came out from cover, shot at the few patrols left in the square, and then ran for it, pulling the droids after them. Bant ignited her lightsaber to provide cover as they headed for the hanger, while Padmé took the two B1’s left to guard the doors. She was a crack shot, Daenerys noted approvingly.

There were more droids inside the hanger, and Daenerys drew back for a second, taking Anakin by the shoulder. “Hide,” she instructed him. Kark, and this was supposed to be the safer half of the plan. Really, she would have preferred to leave him behind with Katti Stark in the swamp, but Obi-Wan’s warning against leaving them behind had stayed with her.

“But-!”

“Anakin!”

He made an unhappy face, but darted away.

* * *

Anakin crouched behind a crate as the pilots all climbed up into the fancy looking N-1 ships. “It’s not fair!” he complained to R2D2, the astromech that had been trundling along with them. “I can help too, I know I can!”

Artoo beeped in sympathy, then rolled out into blasterfire.

“Hey, wait up!” Anakin called, ducking this way and that, scrambling up into the cockpit of an empty fighter that Artoo had gotten pulled up into. 

Peeking out over the rim of the cockpit, Anakin watched Daenerys and Padmé and Bant take care of the rest of the droids. He couldn’t wait until he was old enough to be out there helping. He hadn’t been much help to Daenerys on Tatooine, and it didn’t look like he’d be helping here. One day though…. 

The doors to the inside of the palace opened, and everyone stopped. Anakin watched, confused, as a guy in black clothes held up a tube - no, wait, that was a lightsaber, like Bant’s!

Except, when this one lit up, it was red. He’d never seen a red one before. Bant stepped forward, and lit her lightsaber, too. Wait, wasn't this another Jed- Oh! The guy in black was attacking! 

It was all so fast, Anakin could barely follow it, but he could tell Bant was losing - she was giving ground, and Daenerys and Padmé were falling back too. They drew even with the ship he was in, and an idea popped into his head. “R2,” he whispered, ducking down, “I’m gonna try and shoot the new guy with the ship’s lasers. Can you help me?”

R2 didn’t say anything, but the ship’s controls lit up. “Wizard,” Anakin grinned. It looked kinda like the pod Watto had been making him race in, and kinda like the controls of the Naboo yacht that Pilot Ric had let him sit at. Aaannd it also wasn’t like either of them. “Maybe...this one,” he said, punching a button that looked larger and more important than the others. The lasers didn’t fire, but the ship lifted out of its cradle with a soft ‘whoomp’ noise and started to drift forward. 

“Oops. Maybe this one?” he said as he tried a lever, but that wasn’t it either. Finally, he found the yoke tucked away against the dashboard, with a nice red button on top that he guessed was the lasers. “Ahah!” He grabbed it, glanced over the rim of the cockpit. With a deep breath like Qui-Gon had taught him, felt the world settle around him, and pressed the button.

* * *

  
  
Bant felt the heat of the starfighter’s shot as it went past her, it was that close. The...Jedi? Sith? (Sith? Could it really be a Sith?) spun and tumbled to the floor as the shot impacted him, instead.

Breathing hard, Bant just stood there for a moment, realizing that she was going to live after all. The...the Sith had come out of nowhere, out of a youngling’s demon-tale, and though she’d stepped forward to meet it, within the first two blows she’d known she’d die in this hanger today.

“Jedi Bant!” someone called out, and she came back to herself with a start, heart still pounding. The N-1 starfighter drifted past her, aiming to follow the rest into space. A pilot that had gotten delayed, maybe? She spared a thought of utmost gratitude for them, but there was no time to waste.

“I’m fine,” she called, intending to join the rest of the group, but an icy cold swept through the hanger, misting Bant’s breath in front of her, holding her in its icy grip, and the _ Force _\- the Force was in turmoil, a clawing, fetid tide of rot spreading out from- 

From the Sith. Who was starting to twitch. Bant looked across the corpse at Queen Padmé and the others. “Go!” she called. “Go now!”

They were feeling the same cold as she was, she could tell from the white plumes of breath and how they were hunching in on themselves. The Sith’s arm flailed out to one side, and a blue aura licked at him.

“I’ll take care of this, go!” They heeded her, and ducked into the palace. That was the only blessing in all this, because Bant didn’t think she’d be walking away from whatever was about to happen. Bant thought of her Master, and hoped that Tahl would know she’d tried her best. No, focus on the here and now. She set herself in a defensive pose, wrapping the Force around her in an attempt to ward off the biting cold sapping the warmth from her.

The Sith got up as if it was being pulled by puppet-strings, its eyes no longer the bloodshot yellow from before, but a death-clouded blue. And then, it started to _ warp _ , in ways that made Bant’s stomach turn, but it was also getting bigger, growing to twice, three, four times its size, with no sign of stopping. _ Wings _, leathery skin tattered and rotting, snapped open and Bant realized what she was seeing.

A dragon, moving though there was no life in it, eyes burning blue and spreading a deathly cold around it, sick and wrong in the Force. No, even a Jedi could not fight this.

She broke for the outside, cold numbing her limbs. The black dragon drew breath and roared, screeching like tearing metal and the cries of the damned, and all the time, Bant could feel its attention fixed on her.

* * *

  
  
Qui-Gon wheeled in a tight turn, immersed in the currents of air and the flow of the Force. A vulture droid slipped narrowly under one of his wings, and two more flew into his plume of fire, spiralling wildly before crashing down onto the Gungans’ shields, from there to either slide off or drop through, though with enough warning that the tiny humanoids below could move out of the way. The world always seemed so much smaller, so much easier, when he could spread his wings and pull free of gravity on a whim.

It had been ages since Qui-Gon had taken part in this sort of large-scale battle - dragons were becoming rarer and rarer, and conflicts were typically decided through diplomacy or blasters, not dragonfire. He’d been very lucky to find Obi-Wan living out in the wastes of Tatooine, a young dragon not yet two centuries old, and then to stumble upon Anakin as well - it might be nothing more than a coincidence, but finding Daenerys on top of that? No, the threads of the galaxy were coming to a head. A time of change was upon them. 

Breathing fire again, Qui-Gon took down another vulture droid, and off to his left, Obi-Wan spun again, taking advantage of the tight turn radius afforded by simply tucking his wings and flipping end over end, catching a vulture droid and yanking it off course to crash into another. So much energy, so much acrobatics, Qui-Gon thought fondly.

In all, the battle in the skies was holding steady, while the Gungans on the ground faced off against the B1 droids, group tactics solid, if rusty. He’d caught a glimpse of yellow and chrome a moment ago, too, so the Naboo pilots were off to pester the control ship, good. It looked like the plan, for all its myriad parts, was coming together.

There was a roar off in the distance, and a wash of polluted Force rolled over the battlefield. Qui-Gon almost collided with one of the droids, but recovered quickly. He’d sensed foul things in the Force before, but this was beyond even the worst of that. He oriented himself and dread clenched around his heart. The polluted miasma was coming from the direction of Theed palace.

Reaching out for Daenerys, for his _ Anoon _, he felt her turmoil, her shock. No terror, thank the stars, but the Force was rife with possibilities, many of them stained with blood and death and a terrible, chilling cold.

He turned, disengaging from the chase. At least they’d thinned out the vulture droids some. ‘_ Obi-Wan _ ,’ he sent, _ ‘there’s trouble at the castle. Stay here and protect the Gungans. _’

‘_ Qui-Gon, no, what-? _’ Obi-Wan sent, but Qui-Gon was already speeding away, wings pushing through the air. 

The disturbance was easy enough to find - it wasn’t like it was trying to hide. Indeed, its goal at the moment seemed to be killing the little Jedi student, who was trying, sensibly, to run for it.

Qui-Gon had been ready, or so he’d thought. He’d recognized the roar as draconic, or something like it, but to see a rotting corpse, still moving, driven by some will not its own, shocked him to his core. Revulsion rose like bile, and Qui-Gon roared his rattling cry as he spewed fire down at the monstrosity.

It pulled left to avoid the fire and only caught it on the tip of one wing. It didn’t hiss or cry in pain - there wasn’t any reaction at all. It fixed him with its flat blue-white eyes, and launched itself into the air as a freezing chill caught at Qui-Gon’s wings.

* * *

They were so close. If Gunray was still in the control center the Trade Federation had set up, he was only two floors above them. So far, resistance had been light to non-existent. She owed General Robbo, and she knew it.

Panaka peeked around the next corner. “Looks clear,” he said quietly, and they started to move down the large hallway.

“Halt, who goes there?” a mechanical voice said, and they turned to see two B1s at the other end of the hallway, just having turned the corner.

“Nute Gunray requested us to bring these Naboo to him,” Panaka said, blaster holstered and trying to project confidence as he moved towards the droids.

“Mmm that doesn’t sound right,” the B1 said, head tilting down as it reviewed information. “State your designation.”

“Nute Gunray requested-”

“No such orders found,” the B1 declared, “shoot the intruders!”

Panaka pulled his blaster and shot one droid as he backed up, Padmé and Daenerys and the others putting down cover fire for him as they fell back to try and get to the next defensible alcove.

Padmé shot down another B1 droid as it came into view, and heard the smooth, rolling sound of droidekas from behind them. Six more B1s backed up the surviving ones, and she glanced back to see three droidekas unfold, blasters trained on them, shields up.

The battle had gotten into her blood, and she wanted to keep fighting. Maybe they could make it. They were _ so close _. 

The larger part of her knew differently, and to get everyone, including Daenerys, killed for no reason...she would be failing her duty as Queen. “Stop!” she called out. “Stop, we surrender!”

The blasterfire on both sides tapered off, leaving Padmé’s group in a useless defensive huddle. “They’ve won this round,” she said bitterly.

* * *

The giant fire-breathing reptiles had been...a surprise, to put it lightly. Robbo thought that they might even have been enough, if the third one hadn’t shown up and drawn the silver one away from its- his? post. The copper one was doing the best it could, but Robbo had the feeling it was distracted, barely holding off the remaining flying mekaneeks On the ground, he had his own problems - the skeletal B1 mekaneeks as well as the rolling ones were pushing through the shields, and their blasterfire was a torrent the Gungans’ technology was ill-equipped to meet. Some of the Naboo had blasters instead of boomers, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

He could draw it out, sacrifice more of his people. He hadn’t gotten a signal from the Naboo Biggun yet, that she’d been successful. But if she hadn’t succeeded by now, could she? And if he sacrificed all his people here, would there be anyone left afterwards?

The silver dragon screeched as the black one raked it along it’s belly, and the copper one cried out in sympathy. As new as Robbo was to flying combat, he could tell the silver one’s chances were slim. 

The tanks were breaching the shields, and the huge blasts from those took out five, six people in a shot. One faamba lowed, rising up on its hind legs before collapsing, bleeding out from multiple blaster wounds, and the shield overhead flickered and collapsed, opening them up to overhead fire.

No. Enough. “Fall back!” Robbo called, tapping a quick, simple code into his com to be relayed to all his people. They’d held the line valiantly, but this was about to become a slaughter, and that, he wouldn’t allow. “Fall back!”

* * *

Anakin poked the controls of the fighter, frowning. He’d figured out pretty much all the buttons and knobs, but he still couldn’t figure out how to get the thing back on manual. 

Artoo beeped, and Anakin popped his head up to look. “The control ship!” He could see small explosions where the Naboo pilots were attacking it, but it still looked operational. Operational, and getting closer much too quickly. “Artoo!” Anakin cried as a squad of vulture droids zipped past, hammering the little yellow ship with blasterfire, “get us off this autopilot or we’re _ both _gonna be scrap!”

Artoo bwooped and blatted, and the controls were suddenly responsive, readouts flipping to a light blue instead of locked red. “You did it Artoo!” Anakin crowed, sending the fighter into a dive to skim under the big control ship. Artoo chittered, information popping up on one of the readouts.

Akakin’s eyes went wide behind the goggles he’d pulled over them. “More control ships?!” Right, there’d been a bunch, and the battle was dragging out so long that the others were coming to help, probably. And if that was the case, it meant that Daenerys and Padmé hadn’t won yet. “We gotta help, Artoo!”

Artoo beeped a question. “No, we’re not going back,” Anakin said, determined. He was smaller, and he couldn’t do anything that Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan could do, outside of being faster at some things, but Daenerys was his _ Anoon _ too! She’d freed him, she’d freed Mom, and now she was trying to help Queen Padmé free her people, and Anakin _ would _help!

Blasterfire hit them from behind, making Artoo beep in agitation. “I know, I know!” Anakin said, sending them into a roll to try and get away. “Just hang on!” The controls looked kinda like the podracer's, but they responded way differently. Maxing the speed, he sent them skimming over the control ship, zipping by some of the damaged sections where the other N-1’s had scored hits. Maybe if they couldn’t outmaneuver the vulture droids, they could outrun them.

They did lose the vulture droids - only to pick up a new group five seconds later. A shot hit one of the nacelles, and their trajectory picked up a spin. “I know we’ve been hit!” Anakin called back to Artoo’s alarmed blatting. “See if you can stabilize it!” They were heading straight for the end of one of the control ship’s arms, and Anakin did his best to aim them as they hurtled forward, narrowly getting them into a hanger instead of splatted on the hull. “Good going Artoo!” Ankain said as the drag on one side stopped. Now all he had to do was curve along the interior, not slam into any of the doors or droids, max out the brakes and hope they stopped before the passage did. No problem.

They skidded to a halt, sideways and flat on their belly, about ten meters from a giant durasteel wall, and surrounded by curious droids. This might be a problem. “Everything’s overheated,” Anakin said quietly.

Artoo booped, and Anakin glanced over the rim of the cockpit. “This is not good,” he said, ducking back down and flipping ignition switches to try and get them moving again.

Artoo threw up some text on one of the monitors. “But- okay, fine,” Anakin grumped, but he kept his hands to himself for five seconds, as specified.

The B1 droids ambled closer, asking for identification or something, and Artoo beeped cheerfully back at them, keeping up a continuous stream of information and not giving them a chance to process.

Ankin’s fingers itched to try the controls again, but mindful of Artoo’s instructions, he held back. He was rewarded a moment later by red lights flipping to green, and he immediately punched the ignition, whooping as the shields reactivated and they lifted off the floor. “We have power back!”

The shields shrugged off the B1 droids’ blasterfire like it was nothing, and Anakin fired back at them, throwing everything he had at the oncoming droids, including two torpedoes - neat, he hadn’t known the starfighter had those - as he turned the ship to get them facing the right way. 

Something exploded from the direction the torpedoes had gone, and the whole hanger shuddered. “Let’s get outta here,” he said, and Artoo booped agreement.

Getting back out was both easier and harder - Anakin didn’t have to fight his ship, but all the droids, including the vulture droids, were gunning for them. A bad blow rocked the ship again, and one of the engines started to fail, swapping half of the readouts over to flashing red as an alarm sounded in the cockpit. 

“C’mon, just a little further,” Anakin urged the N-1. The mouth of the hanger yawned in front of him, open and inviting. “Just a little….” The failing engine picked up again, and Anakin pressed their speed to the limit. Flashing out of the hanger into empty space, a vulture droid’s shot caught them badly on the much-abused nacelle, and all the readouts screamed red for a split second before a giant fireball engulfed the little ship, scattering shrapnel in all directions.

Out of the heart of the furnace shot a small dragon, gleaming gold in the fire that wreathed it, holding a screaming, scorched astromech unit firmly in its jaws.

* * *

Obi-Wan held off the vulture droids as best he could, his heart clenched tight in fear as Qui-Gon spattered blood all over the grass not a klik away, facing off with the abomination that breathed frozen death. One of Qui-Gon’s wings dragged uselessly, half frozen, half ripped, and it felt all too horribly as if the abomination was simply toying with a limping Qui-Gon.

Duty alone kept Obi-Wan where he was, defending the Gungans and Naboo, but when the vulture droids went dark and dropped from the sky, he didn’t spare even one more thought for his charges. Speeding towards the battle, the abomination saw him coming, and lashed out at Qui-Gon again, lunging for the base of Qui-Gon’s throat and latching on, breathing a burst of frost. Only Qui-Gon wrenching free spared him from death, but a gout of blood poured from the wound, and Qui-Gon staggered and collapsed on his side.

Screaming in denial, Obi-Wan unleashed a stream of fire onto the abomination, driving it away from Qui-Gon. It leaped into the air with a massive push, but Obi-Wan didn’t intend to give it the time to build height. Diving in, he breathed fire again, but the abomination dodged, rising up and starting to circle, jaws burning with frost fire. They dove and rolled, trying to get at the other with claws, with teeth, with fire. 

Obi-Wan felt himself begin to flag - he’d been fighting vulture droids for far too long before this started, and the abomination had an inexhaustible supply of energy. Would this be it? Would he die alongside Qui-Gon today?

A shot took the abomination across its belly, and it roared, turning to see its new attacker. Obi-Wan looked too, and found that he and the abomination had drifted over to the remains of the land battle, where the Gungans and Naboo had taken over one of the tanks and were joining in on Obi-Wan’s side.

A Gungan boomer-catapult was also being dragged over, and Obi-Wan took advantage of the abominion’s moment of distraction to fly directly into it, dealing it a stunning blow and sending it tumbling closer to Obi-Wan’s allies. 

The catapult fired, clipping the abomination’s rotting tail, but no sooner had it turned its attention to that, than the tank blasted it again, catching it through one tattered wing. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and roared fire, catching it across the other wing and back, then let the catapult fire again. Shooting upwards, he built as much height as he could, and when the tank had fired again - a miss, but it didn’t matter - Obi-Wan was in position; he tucked his wings into a stoop, catching the abomination in a blow at the base of its neck with open talons, and twisted his long, serpentine neck around to rip the damned thing’s throat out as they both tumbled to the droid-strewn ground.

Anything else would have been dead, but Obi-Wan supposed that that was the problem - this thing was _ already _dead. It moved, still, and hatred burned in its eyes, but Obi-Wan was not to be deterred. First, he separated the neck from the torso with a vicious rip, burning his mouth with the freezing cold of the thing, then he went for the joints, separating wings and legs from the body. Lastly, he breathed two massive gouts of fire onto the thing’s head, one after the other, reducing glassy ice-blue eyes to a charred and melting mass. It still stank of rot and burning flesh, but it no longer twitched, and Obi-Wan would have to be satisfied with that.

* * *

She’d failed. Padmé kept her head high as they were led into the throne room at blaster point, face composed, but all she could think of were the many, many people she’d failed today. Nute Gunray started to gloat about treaties, and Padmé just looked at him, stone-faced with impotent anger.

Without warning, the B1 droids all did a simultaneous little lurch, and seemed to just…stop. There was a moment of complete, dumbfounded surprise, from everyone including Gunray.

Daenerys was the first to recover. Almost faster than Padmé could track, she darted forward, did..._ something _ martial involving her feet, and Gunray went down with a cry, his legs taken out from under him as neat as you please. As he lay flat on his back, Daenerys dropped down and slammed a balled-up fist into his torso with all her weight behind it, too high for a human’s solar plexus, but apparently exactly where the Nemoidian one was, if Gunray’s little wheeze was anything to go by. It was all very unexpected, but through the shock, something in Padmé sat up and paid attention in a big way.

“Blaster!” Daenerys called holding out a hand in Padmé’s group’s general direction.

Padmé jerked into action, scrambling for the throne and pressing the release on one of the arms to reveal the two blasters Panaka had insisted on storing there in case of emergency. 

“Daenerys!” Padmé called, tossing one at her friend_ . _

Daenerys caught it, and Gunray froze as she pressed it into his sternum, the whine of an activating blaster loud in the sudden silence.

“Queen Amidala,” Daenerys said, never looking away from Gunray, “I believe you had something to say to our friend here.”

Right. Padmé walked over and looked down at the Nemoidan, their two-foot height difference reversed - and then some - by Gunray lying prone. “Viceroy, you are trespassing on sovereign Naboo territory. Call off the blockade and pull your troops off Naboo.”

“We-” he wheezed, still fighting for breath, and a small, petty part of Padmé was glad of it, “we have many more ships in orbit, all of them with- with a full complement of droids. Release me, and we will not take vengeance on your...friends.”

How? How could he lie there and just- threaten them so easily? As if all their efforts were nothing? She was about to speak again, when Daenerys beat her to the punch.

“Viceroy,” she said with an icy, aggressive smile, lekku stiff. “If you are not going to cooperate, then you are of no use to us.”

“You- you would threaten violence on an unarmed captive?” he sputtered, but Padmé thought there was a note of unease there now. “The Senate would never consider Naboo’s case again, if you-”

“But I’m not from Naboo,” Daenerys interrupted calmly. “I’m from Tatooine. And if you think I care about my reputation in the Republic, you really haven’t been paying attention.” She pressed the blaster’s muzzle a bit more firmly into his sternum. “So, are you going to be reasonable, or are you going to be dead?” 

Gunray swallowed heavily, the fight going out of him. Padmé rather wanted to kiss Daenerys.

“Now, Viceroy,” Padmé said, following up on Daenerys’ momentum, “we’re going to discuss a _ new _treaty.”

* * *

  
  
Padmé heaved an exhausted sigh and wandered out to the square where the noise around the bonfire had died down some. All the immediate crises were as dealt with as they were going to get today: Gunray was secured in a cell, with plenty of guards watching over him; the camps were officially disbanded, and all Naboo and Gungans released; the Senate had been contacted about matters, this time with copious images and documents attached; Padawan Bant had been found, injured but alive, in the shallow waters at the bottom of a waterfall; the injured Gungans and Naboo - mostly from the battle, but some from the camps - had been tended to; and Qui-Gon had turned out to be alive, sort of, after his fight with what everyone agreed was some form of undead monster dragon.

Anakin was the hero of the hour - he’d been carried around and made to tell the story about blowing up the control ship at least twice while Padmé was in earshot, which he’d done with great enthusiasm and sound-effects, backed up by the astromech, Artoo.

Qui-Gon was currently in a rock, which Daenerys had seemed to take in stride, and so Padmé felt she could do no less. Apparently, when dragons were badly injured in their dragon form, their hearts turned to stone, or pearl, Padmé was unclear on that point, and while the outer form ‘died,’ the egg, or whatever it was, could protect the dragon in its humanoid form while it healed. It all sounded like a child’s fae-tale, but the way this day had gone, who was Padmé to judge?

General Robbo was off managing the Gungan side of things, sorting out their returned citizens and hopefully being very happy with his reunited family. Padmé had heard something about Obi-Wan owing General Robbo a debt.

Tomorrow they would have to deal with official celebrations and ceremonies, start to plan what to do to help Tatooine, find some way to stop the senseless antipathy of the Naboo towards Gungans- a host of problems and more. That was for tomorrow though. Tonight, there was food and freedom, music and dancing late into the night. Padmé realized that Daenerys was missing, and went in search of her. She found her by two of her dragons, Anakin dead to the world in Obi-Wan’s arms. Daenerys was tucked against Obi-Wan’s side, a blanket wrapped around the three of them as she spoke quietly to him.

Padmé stopped, about to turn and leave them to what seemed like a private moment, but Obi-Wan looked up, seeing her. “Queen Amidala, what can we do for you?”

“Nothing, I was just….” Just what? What was she doing, exactly?

“Would you care to join us?” Daenerys asked, lifting the blanket wrapped around her in invitation. 

“I- Thank you,” Padmé said, and joined the huddle.

Padmé was, quite honestly, exhausted, but being two leaders and a dragon apparently meant that conversation tended towards certain topics, which was how Padmé ended up discussing the plans for Tatooine, both protecting it and using it as a staging area for going up against the Hutts. Also, whether or not Padmé wanted to come back with them, or visit later, and who she might leave in charge in her absence. Daenerys suggested leaving Sabé to impersonate her and see which of her councilors, if any, noticed, which sounded both funnier and more plausible than it really should.

They did need to contact Tatooine tomorrow, to find out if they could. Hopefully they had longer-range capability by now, either built by Shmi and other engineers, or imported from Rodia. Bant would certainly want to check on her Master, and vice versa. 

They discussed treaties and trade and what Tatooine might have to export. They spun wild fancies about what it might look like if Naboo wanted to start its own trade group, and what kind of fees and licences the Senate might require, or if the Senate could really do anything to stop Naboo, if they decided to just go ahead with something like that.

“Hello there, Ani” Obi-Wan said, looking down at the little boy in his arms. “Did we wake you?”

“Nah, I wasn’ asleep,” Anakin said, half-asleep and cuddling closer to Obi-Wan. “Mm, you have pretty colours,” he said, looking at Padmé. “Kinda like Daenerys. You two should-mmbprhf?”

“Anakin, what have we said about that?” Obi-Wan asked, amused. He kept his hand over the boy’s mouth though, and Anakin made a disgruntled noise.

“What?” Padmé asked.

“It’s nothing,” Obi-Wan said, ruffling Anakin’s hair gently. “I think I should go and check on Qui-Gon, actually. Want to come with me?” he asked Anakin, who nodded.

“Sure.”

“If you’ll excuse us,” Obi-wan said, slipping out of the huddle and leaving Padmé and Daenerys to pull the warm blanket closer around themselves.

“Will Qui-Gon really be all right?” Padmé asked when the two were out of earshot.

“I’m rather new to the whole dragon thing myself,” Daenerys admitted, “but if Obi-Wan says Qui-Gon will heal, then he will.”

Padmé shivered, but not from cold. “We almost lost today,” she said, looking out at the dark, voice small and quiet. “It wasn’t anything but luck - luck and Anakin - that saved us. Did I make the wrong choice? Should we have- I don’t know, brought Shmi from Tatooine, to build more of the EMP bombs, would that have been a better way to attack the droid army, or even the control ships? Would less people have died-”

“Stop,” Daenerys interrupted. “No plan is going to go perfectly. If you’d waited, people would have died in the camps. All you can do is your best.” She curled one arm around Padmé’s shoulders and pulled her closer. “And we did win. Without stranding us on Naboo without workable transport, too, so arguably, your plan worked better than mine,” she teased.

“It wouldn’t have worked at all, without you,” Padmé said. She glanced up at Daenerys, then down again, hiding a chuckle in Daenerys’ shoulder. “I honestly thought Gunray was going to faint when you threatened him.”

“He did look rather pale, didn’t he?”

They looked at each other, and there was a moment of quiet - both of them smiling. Padmé felt a warmth rise up in her, a sense of heady possibility, and Daenerys was so warm, so soft, pressed against her. Padmé leaned in, brushing her lips against Daenerys’, her eyes falling closed for a fraction of a second before she realized what she was doing and jerked back, freezing in place in horrified realization.

“I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know-”

“Padmé, it’s all right,” Daenerys said quietly, putting a hand on Padmé’s cheek. “Now,” she said with a teasing look, “would you care to come back here and finish that?”

“I-” Padmé flushed, feeling her cheek heat against Dany’s hand. “If… if you’re sure it’s okay…?”

Dany chuckled, lekku twitching in amusement, then leaned forward and pressed her velvet-soft lips to Padmé’s, sending a shiver of emotion through her. Padmé pressed into it, and they traded soft, nominally chaste kisses until one of them yawned unexpectedly. Both of them stopped, surprised, then devolved into giggles. Curling around each other against the chill in Naboo’s air, they fell asleep in each others arms.


End file.
